Executioner
by wwgost
Summary: ShinRa decides to do a little cleanup and bring about long overdue justice.  Gets pretty dark in later chapters.  Mostly Vincent-centric but chapter two will be Reno/Cloud for those fans.  Rated M for language, sex, and subject matter.
1. Before the Storm

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, damn it all.**

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><p><em>I wonder if it was a dream<br>Remember how you made me crazy?  
>Remember how I made you scream<br>Now I don't understand what happened to our love  
>But babe, I'm gonna get you back<br>I'm gonna show you what I'm made of –Don Henley, Boys of Summer_

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><p>"Thank all of you for actually showing up, not that it's a challenge when the meeting is here." Tseng rather had a point. Even Reno followed along when the destination was Costa del Sol. "I trust everyone's rooms were satisfactory?"<p>

"Oh yeah, nice digs, yo. Though not all of us have a rich boyfriend to upgrade to a suite." He pointed a good natured glare at his partner.

Rude grunted. "Yeah, a townhouse suite. Sometime yesterday afternoon, we caught on that when you're downstairs, what you want is upstairs and when you're upstairs, what you want is downstairs."

"Bathroom?" Elena looked horrified.

"Nope, two of those."

"Oh, thank Gaia! But I'm sure my makeup would always be in the wrong one."

The men in the room shared a baffled look before Rude stated, "But our view is awesome. The lagoon."

"Fuck you, man. We got a rooftop and some maintenance shaft."

"Another building tower, here." Tseng visibly recalculated the worth of his position before going on with the meeting, and sighed. "Now, before going on with the usual team building exercise crap that we all dread and which usually ends with Reno booby-trapping something, I actually have something serious and useful to put on the table." Three sets of ears perked up around the table and whatever defense the red-head was about to offer died on his lips.

"Don't look like you're being chastised, Reno. For once, you're about to be recognized for effort applied to something besides being a pain in the ass. What Elena is passing out now is an outline of former cold cases. I say former because they have been reactivated by the President.

"They are members of the now defunct Science Research Division, men and women directly associated with the experiments on human subjects led by Professor Hojo. They are, to our knowledge, still at large. In the files you will find photographs if they existed, computer-aged to present day, and all aliases. Reno and Elena put this together out of their unhealthy fascination with archival files and it rather grew from there, so Rude, you may thank them if this vacation ends up being actual work. However, I plan to see to it that work waits for us back in Edge."

"Thank you sir." He attempted a glare at his partner but couldn't really pull it off. Motivation was hard to come by when the sun was shining outside and, as their director had pointed out, this really could wait.

"Well, that will be all. I don't want to keep you past lunch as I am sure your friends and families are waiting for you. I'll see you all back here in the morning, I trust?" He cast a particularly significant look at Elena.

"Sir, that incident with the Hand Grenade drinks last year will not be repeated, I assure you."

"It had best not. Tomorrow then. Rude, a moment?"

"You're in trouble now, partner!" Reno teased as he practically ran out of the room, eager to hit the beach or, more likely, the closest tropical bar.

"Sir?"

"I've already discussed this with Reno but I wanted to speak to you as well. If Vincent wants to volunteer on this we would consider his help invaluable, but I do not wish to cause him undue stress. He has been through enough and I for one do not wish to be part of ShinRa adding to his suffering. I will let you be the judge of whether or not to even bring it up."

Rude nodded, only slightly surprised. "I will consider it."

"Good. Now, enjoy the rest of your day. We have meetings tomorrow, don't forget, and then the rest of the week off."

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><p>"So what happened with the hand grenades, Laney?"<p>

"It's some drink at a bar down the street. It's green and has four ounces of rum. I drank four of them and had the cups strung around my neck...well, I decided to make sure I didn't miss the next morning's meeting by getting dressed in my suit the night before and sleeping in the meeting room. Only, I didn't take the cups off. And slept on the table so I didn't get my suit wrinkled." The Director only shook his head at the memory.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaa! And he goes on like I'm the big actor!"

"Well Reno,"she said as she pulled out her cast iron chair at the patio bar. "I did sleep in the conference room to make sure I'd keep my meeting. That shows some dedication, even drunk."

"Speaking of drunk, who's up for Hussong's Parlor after this? They open at two."

Hands went up around the table. "What's at Hussong's?" Vincent asked.

"Eighty-nine kinds of the finest tequila on the planet," Reno answered.

"Well." His boss corrected. "More like about fifty decent tequilas, ten bottles of bottom shelf swill, and twenty varieties of pure distilled bliss, but that is simply my opinion based on previous visits."

"Secret is, you drink the good stuff first, then the decent stuff, then you don't notice the swill, yo."

"Which is why, as Elena was passed out at work already dressed for the next day with souvenir glasses strung around her neck, you were emptying said swill into the trash can via your stomach outside the hotel in the previous evening's clothing. Perhaps you should bypass Hussong's."

"Or save it till a non-school night."

"Or so, Reno."

"You love us, boss."

"Don't push it."

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><p>It was morning.<p>

Vincent curled into the overstuffed, comfortable bed in their rental. "Mmm, it's kind of nice."

"Except for the upstairs, downstairs thing." This time it was the coffee they were sipping which had required an extra trip, it's rich roasted aroma filling the room and which Rude had just brought up; by some agreement they had reached, it was his turn. Rude sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. All of the fashionable district of Costa lay out before them, the lagoon sparkling in the background. It was a stunning view.

But not so much as the one inside. Vincent lay back in the damask covers, long hair spread around him like spidersilk. His worn t shirt might as well have been a gentleman of leisure's silk pajamas from the way he wore it; everything he did was touched with an old world elegance and beauty that Rude found himself unable to completely blame on his age. "What?" he purred around the rim of his coffee cup.

Rude slipped back between the covers with his own coffee. "Nothing. Just have some time before I get ready. How are you feeling?"

"Good. I slept well."

"I noticed. Blanket hog. Plans for the day?"

"Thought I'd join Cloud for a ride down the coast while you and the other Turks are in meetings. This morning Tifa is dropping Marlene off here and we're having cocoa in the lobby while we wait for Barret to pick her up. What...what are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. Rude had put his own cup on the nightstand and was trying to pry Vincent's out of his hand. It was never an advisable task with a caffeine addicted expert marksman, and he wasn't having any luck besides.

Giving up, he slipped his hand under the covers and started to stroke Vincent through his pajama pants instead.

Vincent put down his coffee. Laughing, he burrowed deeper into the covers and nuzzled into Rude's neck, wrapping his legs around his waist. "Now this...this is really nice."

"I'll give you nice." Rude kissed him, deep and long and by the time it was done he was aching with arousal, rubbing up into Rude's hip and biting back on a moan. A warm, calloused hand pulled at his shirt and he let it be yanked off him, then Rude was rubbing under the waistband of his pants, and then just as quickly, the pants were gone as well.

Finally, flesh met heated flesh in the warm bed covers and both men groaned. Rude ran his warm hand down Vincent's slender, muscular side and cupped one rounded buttock, pulling him in closer. "Oh gods, Rude..."

"Yeah." They went back to kissing, the sound of their lips and tongues meeting the only sound in the room. Rude broke away for one agonizing moment to open the bedside drawer and his lover collapsed in a disappointed moan into the pillows beside him. "Hush, you."

If Vincent had a response, it was only to thrust up against Rude's thigh as the man tried to stretch and prepare him. He wasn't going to last long and he didn't care, he knew he wasn't alone in that respect. "Now," he whispered, sounding rough to his own ears.

Rude nodded and pressed into him as slowly as their desire for each other would allow and he felt it almost too much, but it was so good, he threw his head back into the pillow as hard as he could and ground his teeth on a moan. Rude pulled nearly out and then thrust back in, hard. He was so close. "Fuck, you're tight," he heard Rude grunt before his motions became jerky and irregular. Rude grasped his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and it was all he knew before ecstasy claimed him without even having been touched.

He turned his head to see his lover, panting and sated. "Damn, babe, you okay?" Rude's face was painted with nearly comical concern. Well, it had been a little...quick.

He ran his flesh hand over a series of rings in his lover's ear and chuckled dryly, wincing a little as he pulled away to get a cloth to clean them. "I'll live. It was worth it. Maybe I'll put off the riding tour until tomorrow, though."

He leaned back and was just starting to drowse when Rude bolted upright. "Shit, I'm almost late. Only two meetings but gotta be there." He ran to the bathroom, then out again and was dressed, leaning over the bed for a quick kiss.

"Love you."

"Love you too." And he was gone, Vincent reflecting that no one could go from post-coital nudity to clothed and out the door faster than Rude. It was probably the no-hair thing. Grumbling, he got up and dressed himself, though more slowly. He flipped the comforter and sheets back up—he loathed the sight of an unmade bed—and after leaning back on it to answer a few emails for Reeve, he prepared for the rest of his day.

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><p>"It's such a pretty townhouse!" Marlene twirled about the staircase, still having a young child's fascination with such things, and ran upstairs. "You can see FOREVER up here!"<p>

"Child, you can see exactly the same thing you can down in the living room; it is only one floor higher. Though, while you are upstairs, could you bring down the coffee cups so I can rinse them? Maid service is not until late this afternoon and I will likely need more coffee before then." Smiling, she trotted back down the spiral staircase with a mug in each hand, and passed them to Vincent at the sink.

"Remember when you saved me in the fountain when I was little?"

Vincent smiled. At nearly ten, the girl was hardly ancient, but she was often wiser than her years. "I did not save you. The fountain was barely a foot deep, though I admit I did not know that at the time, and you were a rather tall six year old." It had not stopped him from tearing in after her, brass footwear and all, under the sheer terror that Barret's daughter would meet her death by drowning in the obsidian fountain outside the ShinRa Health Center under his watch. "As I recall, the only saving I did was to lie to your father and tell him you fell in, and not jumped in, so that he would not be angry about your new shoes. You still owe me."

"Does Dad know about Uncle Rude?"

He stood staring at her, agape. "Just what do you know about Uncle Rude?"

"You said he was here earlier, and both coffee cups were still warm. And he probably wasn't up there for the view."

Fuck all for Tifa letting her hang out at the bar so much. And the last thing he really wanted, especially on vacation, was an endless litany of Turk jokes from Barret. "We're even on the shoes, child. Let's go wait on your father."

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><p>"Cloud is on board." Reno stirred his over-sugared concoction of a coffee, his eyes a little cold and vengeful.<p>

"Didn't talk to Vincent. Hasn't been feeling well and I'm trying to let him enjoy his vacation while he can."

"Anything we can do, partner?"

"No, it's the migraines. Says it wasn't a problem till after Deepground. There was a lot of damage that Hojo did, Chaos and the Protomateria kept him going but now things are falling apart. Drugs can only do so much and it's up to him to rest and take care of himself."

"Oh yeah, Cloud speaks that language about as well. Yanno...not at all. Good luck. He gets the same speech from the docs, rest, eat right, don't stare at the computer screen without glasses, take breaks, drink lots of water, coffee and half a danish is not breakfast." Reno picked up his pastry and washed it down with the rest of his coffee, not a trace of irony in his voice as he did so. "Uphill battle. I feel ya."

Rude chuckled, knowing there was as much chance of changing his partner as there was his lover and wondering, not for the first time, if complete intractability was a requirement in Turk recruiting. It wouldn't surprise him.

Tseng cleared his throat and put an end to Rude's reflections for the time being. "Picking up from where we left off yesterday. We have also brought the WRO and their operatives in on this, though in the interests of preserving the confidentiality of the known living victims, only those in this room know the identity of the patient numbers I have just given you. There are only two of them. Memorize them and hand them back to me to be destroyed by the end of the meeting."

Rude looked down at the paper with a deathly chill. It contained, as his director said, two lines.

Cloud Strife 21682000247254

Vincent Valentine 21682000228486

He instantly committed them to memory and handed back the paper. Tseng went on, "These were the tracking numbers they were assigned when they 'entered' the labs and so any information that we find in archived files will likely be associated with those numbers. We will use them for the sake of simplicity when relaying information."

"But only we will know if..."

"Yes. Their secrets will rest with us. And if anyone is alive still, they will pay dearly for what they have done." Elena squeezed both their hands sympathetically but Reno still looked a little pale and Rude could not shake the image of the slender, dark haired man he had left resting comfortably in the bedcovers that morning, blissfully unaware.

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><p>When they met for lunch, Cloud and Vincent were still with Barret and Marlene, the latter two having decided to stay in the city and go shopping. Marlene was babbling about her new outfits while Vincent just shrugged. "I ordered the same thing I usually do and had it shipped back to the suite."<p>

"Did you go for a ride, babe?" Reno asked as he leaned in for a kiss from Cloud.

"A short one. We got a late start and then Barret and Marlene wanted to come with us so we made it a group city outing. Marlene had never been down to the fish market."

"It stunk!" They all laughed and ordered their lunches, mostly fish, and wine.

"Did you have a nice day?" Rude asked when they had a quiet moment.

Vincent nodded. "Hectic but nice. Nothing went according to plan, of course, it never does. Marlene is on to us and is temporarily blackmailing me."

"Great. Only a matter of time before I get death threats from Barret. Cid is the one that scares me, though."

"Cid? Why?"

"He's your best friend, he's your oldest friend, he carries around a sharpened phallic symbol taller than he is and has no problem killing me with it if you show up with so much as a hair out of place. And he doesn't like Turks. Thank Gaia he lives on another continent." Truth was, he was only half kidding. If he really examined it, he wasn't sure he was kidding at all. "And don't act like it's no big deal, you were scared to tell him too."

"Not scared. It was merely an awkward conversation. What's in the file?" He nodded at the folder on the table.

"Another awkward conversation. We'll talk about it after lunch." Vincent gave him the kind of nod that said yes, we damn sure will, as their food arrived and they all turned their attention toward eating.

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><p>"So, what's in the file?" The door hadn't even shut behind them.<p>

"All right, I didn't want to say anything in front of Marlene, especially, but also because it's classified info to anyone that isn't a high level Turk or a surviving victim of the Science Research Division."

"Basically, me, Cloud, you, Reno, Tseng, Elena."

"Yes. Anyone else, the info will be severely filtered when they know at all, and they don't yet."

"So what is it?"

"Anyone that had anything to do with the Science Research Division's experimentation on humans, if we don't have proof of a body, it is no longer a cold case. What you are holding is a very well organized and cross referenced list of anyone who may be alive that had anything, anything at all to do with Hojo. And they are now classified as war criminals."

"And they want my help?"

"It would be handy but by no means expected. Tseng made that very clear. You have to volunteer for this, no one is even asking."

Vincent sat down at the kitchen bar and opened the cover. Rude shut it. "Think about this, Vin. You could be opening up..."

"I could be opening up the chance to bring the bastards to justice who tortured me, and Cloud, for years of my life, Rude. I'd like to open this folder now."

Rude moved his hand.

A few minutes later, Vincent shook his head. "I'm sorry. I guess I was just too much of a peon to really get out much. One guy looks familiar but the rest...maybe they were in other labs, or too high up."

"Who looks familiar?"

Vincent pointed. "Enrico Belzec, Grants Manager."

"Held the purse strings for Hojo. Sounds pretty lofty to know a low level Turk like you," Rude teased.

"Maybe he pinched my ass at some cocktail party?"

"Who knows, I'll let Tseng know you recognized him." He drew Vincent into a loose hug. "Enough work, we have the rest of the week off. Wanna hit the pool for a bit?"

"Sounds good. You don't have to be back until Monday?"

"Nope."

"I'd like to hit more than the pool."

"We can work that out."

Rude put the folder in his suitcase, where it lay forgotten, buried in memory and dreams until events called it forth.


	2. Distant Early Warning

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

Chapter 2: Distant Early Warning_.  
><em>

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><p><em>The world weighs on my shoulders<br>But what am I to do?_

_You sometimes drive me crazy  
>But I worry about you<br>I know it makes no difference  
>To what you're going through<br>But I see the tip of the iceberg  
>And I worry about you –Rush, Distant Early Warning<em>

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><p>If there was one thing Reno hated about leaving town, it was coming back to a mountain of laundry. He was lazy by nature and tempted to let Cloud do it, knowing he would become annoyed with it enough to do so, but then Cloud was in the next room happily hacking away on their cold case project. It was something he wasn't supposed to know and knew better than to ask.<p>

He guessed it wasn't too much to expect, that they both do something constructive. He poured detergent into the washer and strolled into the living room to sprawl across the sofa. "Hey babe, pizza or go out?"

"Pizza. I'm getting somewhere with this."

Okay then, an admission of guilt. He called in the order and stretched out a little more, trying to go over the plan in his head. Before leaving Costa, it had been decided that he and Cloud would try to track down the more numerous but lower ranked lab techs and clerical staff, people that Cloud had recognized in the report. Meanwhile Rude and Vincent would concentrate on the Grants Manager, Enrico Belzec, and Tseng and Elena would combine the notes on the two halves of the case and coordinate the overall investigation.

Both Rude and Reno were concerned about reopening old wounds but both of their lovers seemed willing, even eager to find closure and justice, though it did not stop the worried glances between the two partners, when no one else was looking. Reno pulled out his own laptop and made some notes to follow up on the next workday, put the laundry into the dryer, and answered the door for the delivery. "Soup's on, babe! Stop saving the world and come eat!" He pulled a couple beers out of the refrigerator and sat down at the bar.

He poured pepper flakes over his half—hells, he poured pepper flakes over everything—and went to check on Cloud in the absence of an answer. "Reno, this is a list of the people I recognize."

"We had that already. Here's a slice and a beer, yo." Reno hopped up on the desk next to Cloud, figuring that since he had all but owned up to his subversive doings, he wouldn't mind. He was right.

"Here's the last known location. Living together like teenage kids, or at least in the same neighborhood."

"I am so not gonna ask how you found that." They chewed on their pizza for a while. "I grew up around there. Not a nice place. I have to work until Wednesday, you wanna check it out Thursday? Tseng will probably be in the mood to wrap up something, so he won't have an issue with me taking off, maybe Friday too. Long weekend."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Good. Shut off the damn computer and come eat in the kitchen like a human being for once. Though, you do look kinda hot in your computer glasses."

"The geek look turns you on?" Cloud grinned around a mouthful of pizza, dressed only in his glasses and a pair of sweatpants. He did look hot, though in Reno's permanently turned-on mind, that wasn't really a unique circumstance.

"Only on you, babe. Only on you. Now let's finish supper before it gets cold, again." He ate a few more bites. "Though, maybe sometime wear your glasses and we could pretend you're the evil teacher and I'm the student who forgot his homework?"

"Reno?"

"Hmmm?"

"Let's reheat the pizza later." He shoved the plate to the side of the desk and took a swallow of beer, standing and gave Reno where he sat with a slow, comfortable kiss. Reno reached around and pulled him closer with a shameless grope. The action earned him an appreciative groan.

"Look, if you aren't careful we aren't going to make it to the bed. Again."

Cloud just laughed.

They didn't even make it out of the office.

Reno stood up and slipped one hand down the back of Cloud's pants, continuing to stroke the nice fit backside beneath while the other hand rubbed over his back and shoulders. "You feel so good." It was so nice to be like this, with no hurry and no one to impress.

Cloud kissed him again, tasting the spicy tang of sausage over the beer. "Then why are you still wearing clothes?"

It was a damned good question. Some days he wondered why he didn't just join some nudist cult; being married to Cloud, it would make sex a lot simpler. Though, he supposed Tseng would just find more complaints about uniform violations. He muttered something unintelligible and stripped out of his shirt and jeans in quick order. They somehow ended up on the cluttered office floor together, leisurely touching and groping every inch of skin they could reach. Cloud's hot wet mouth sucked at Reno's collarbone and shoulder, leaving little bite marks and sending tingles up the Turk's neck that drove him mad. He ground his erection into his lover's hip, needing the relief of the contact but only growing more frustrated. "Fuck."

"Hmmm?" Cloud paused in his assault on his shoulder to look up, his expression aroused and quizzical. "Lube's in the desk drawer from the last time you molested me while I was working."

"I did not molest you. You threw me on the ground and oh fuck, Cloud, what..." But then Cloud's hand was around his cock and he forgot what question he was supposed to be asking, and reached up into the drawer, bumping his head in the process.

But Cloud too had seemingly had enough of talking, and took the tube out of his lover's hand and slicked Reno's hardness with it, lowering himself to ride him. He hissed with pleasure as he felt himself stretch, not minding the brief burn of it. He could feel Reno tremble beneath him with the effort of restraining himself and it made him smile; smooth slender hands trailed up his thighs to his hips and gently urged him down, faster, before stopping and curling into fists.

"Want more?" he asked the impatient redhead squirming beneath him.

"Ungh!" came the not entirely intelligible reply. Cloud took pity on him and raised up again, thrusting down again to both their relief. Reno's hands, meanwhile, were not idle but swept around from his hips to his ass, digging in nearly painfully as he slammed upward so hard Cloud had to brace himself. "Gods, babe, can't last..."

"Me either." The ache inside him was turning hard, sweet, the pressure building, and Reno closed his hand around his shaft. It was only a few twisting strokes and he was coming. Reno gave in to the beauty, the feel of Cloud's surrender and he too climaxed, and then they lay there, gasping for breath, their hands running over each others' damp bodies.

"Love you. That was..."

"Yeah."

"About supper..."

"I need a fresh beer, too."

And Cloud rested his head on Reno's chest, and once again, began to laugh.

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><p>"So, we are all on Operation Bad Guy now?" They sat around Reno's bar a few nights later and waited for the pasta to be done, passing around beers while Rude struggled with a wine cork.<p>

"Apparently. Little surprised you signed on, Vincent." Reno ignored his partner's mind-your-own-business glare. Minding his own business was not exactly a setting that Reno's personality knew.

"Hojo had quite a few associates who are still at large. I've always known this. If ShinRa is suddenly of a mind to change that, I do not mind helping. I have to admit I've had some strange dreams since becoming involved, however."

"No shit. Me too. I wake up slapping Mako off my face. Bitchsmacked the hell out of Reno last night."

"Well, at least you are accomplishing something productive, Cloud. No, I have been dreaming about clocks, of late."

"Clocks?" Rude stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce that Cloud had been stewing all day. "You never mentioned that."

"It hardly seemed noteworthy."

"That's weird." Reno tore another piece off the garlic bread and shook the pasta drainer. "Like, digital? Alarm? What?"

"Old fashioned analog wall clock. I'm looking up at it watching it change. That's the dream."

"You're a psychoanalysts wet dream, yo."

"And you're not the first person to say that. I'm starving. Rude, stop tasting that while the rest of us still have something to eat. Cloud, how are you holding up?"

"Good. We're concentrating on a group of lab techs. Man, I'd love to track them down. I don't know, the whole 'I'm following orders' bullshit every time they shoved some new drug or needle in me or hooked me up to some machine, it chapped my ass. I guess it's the way they got their distance, but still...and then Hojo's plan to breed Nanaki with Aerith was, I think, one of the sickest things I've ever contemplated."

"But he's not even human!" Reno's garlic bread nearly fell out of his mouth. "And I'm betting he's not really into humans, either."

"No, he at best finds them baffling and not terribly attractive. Though I'm sure he would intend no offense on that sentiment." Vincent's voice held a touch of humor, as if imagining his friend's reaction to their conversation. "And, I'll be glad when it's done as well. I feel like it's knocked something loose, let old ghosts out or at least poked them awake. It's quite vague, but it's definitely not a pleasant feeling."

"Yeah, we're going down into the slums day after tomorrow to check out some dudes Cloud recognized. Not looking forward to that." Reno had his own reasons for avoiding those parts of town; this project might be about achieving justice and closure, but Vincent wasn't the only one whose ghosts were awake and wandering the hallways of his mind.

Rude handed Vincent a large, and full, glass of a potent red wine blend that had become a personal favorite and if he gulped it a little faster than normal, no one noticed. "Need backup?"

"Nah, should be a short trip. If we need to do a longer one we'll back out and give you a call for a redo. Pass the pepper flakes?"

"Okay, then, I'm gonna go visit ma that weekend. Caught hell for not coming to see her when we were there for the meetings." Rude handed his partner the pepper and the room was filled with the sounds of hungry men eating, and nothing else, for the remainder of the evening.

* * *

><p>"Okay, you remember where this was, right?"<p>

"It was a rather memorable event in my past, Reno. I don't put on women's clothing often."

"No, but if you ever do again, I'm ready with the camera. And if you take requests..."

"Shut up. I'm trying to concentrate." Cloud looked around. It had been so long and one manhole cover looked much like another. "It was on past here. Down this alley to the right."

"We had six of these dudes. All hanging out in sort of a gang. They'd be in their thirties by now; isn't that a little old for the communal living thing?"

"Could be a kind of a support group, I guess. It should be around here. The only thing is, I'm a little recognizable, and..."

"And that dude right there by the bonfire? Pretty sure he just recognized you, yo." Never one to put off a fight, Cloud put his hand on his short sword and walked up to the fire.

"Do I know you?" Though at closer range there was little doubt, it was one of the men from Reno's list.

"You..." the man gasped at Cloud.

"Yeah me. Surprised to see me? Tables a little turned now that you aren't hooking electrodes up to me and lighting me up like a fucking car battery? Tell me, was that as much fun for you as it was for Hojo?"

"You don't understand. They said they needed the data. If I hadn't, I might be dead."

"And you did, and now someone I loved _is_ dead. Where are the others?"

"Don't know, man, haven't seen them in years."

"We know you're lying, yo. You might live if you tell us the truth." The man had a moment's weakness at the feel of Cloud's knife against his ribs, only a split second but it was enough for his eyes to glance to an upstairs window. As soon as he did, Cloud ran the knife cleanly through the man's heart, and didn't look too terribly upset about it.

Reno guessed that he could stop worrying about Cloud's better nature standing in the way of his work. "What are you doing?" he asked Reno as he cleaned his knife before sheathing it.

"Sending in time of death and identity. We really are trying to do this in an orderly fashion."

"Well, good. You be orderly while I check out that window."

Cloud was through the door and up the stairs before Reno could mention that it might be a bad idea, so he followed him. Hard on his heels, he had just enough time to see another man who he vaguely recognized, come at Cloud with a club. He met the same fate as the first.

"Let's get out of here, babe. We can bring Rude in on this later and..."

But by now the rest of the block had been alerted to the disturbance, and wouldn't be denied a chance to join in on the action. Three men blocked the stairway; Cloud dispatched one with his knife while Reno took care of the others with his EMR. Exiting the building, they were faced with what looked like most of the tenement and likely a few random neighbors from down the street, neatly cutting off their escape back the way that they came. "Fucking hells. This way!" It stood to reason that they would be left fighting their way through, rather than back. It didn't matter, after all, they were both better at it anyway.

"Did we get any that were on that list?" Reno attempted to wipe a smudge of unknown goo off his face, leaving a bigger smudge in place of it, as they ducked and ran into the next alley.

"Five in all. One at the bonfire that I killed right off, then four in the fight. That leaves one. Let's keep going before the neighborhood watch catches up with us. I don't like our chances of finding our last fugitive in this part of town anyway, I don't think it's exactly a friendly environment."

Reno nodded in agreement and they took off running.

* * *

><p>Reno reflected that the major weakness with the "fighting through" plan was, it left you on the wrong side for a tactful retreat. "So, fuck. How do we get back?"<p>

"That, Reno, is why I was looking for one particular set of manhole covers earlier; they go down the same sewer line. Follow me." Cloud pried the thing up and shimmied down the ladder, Reno following him and pulling the cover back in place.

He landed in a liquid plop. "Great. I'm dying to make a shithole joke here and can't think of one."

"If it's any consolation, we probably won't step in much shit. This part of town probably hasn't seen a working flush toilet since..."

"Since the plate dropped. Yeah. Kinda why I didn't want to come back here." He'd almost let Rude take this assignment but he had seemed under enough stress earlier.

"It's this way."

"I'm going to assume that sense of direction you never demonstrate in my car, but sometimes do on the motorcycle, is about to mysteriously crawl out of your head about now." Not gifted with any kind of enhanced sight, one sewer tunnel looked rather the same as another to Reno.

And obviously, Cloud didn't think it much worthy of a reply but an endless time later, he emerged onto what was either the coolest or creepiest thing he had ever seen in his life.

He'd always wanted a toy train as a kid. A stupid thing for a slum kid to want or more accurately, expect, but this was the next best thing. Assuming, of course, his toy train set were populated with dirt, rust, broken cranes, rat and bug carcasses, and the possibility of monsters hiding behind every shadow.

Then again, he reflected, that might make a wickedly awesome cool train set. They had that spare room they weren't using, after all...

"Reno?" Cloud's impatient whisper broke him from his reverie and he remembered they were supposed to be going somewhere.

"What IS this place? I mean, I know where we are but I've never seen it from this angle, I guess."

"Train graveyard? We, well Tifa, Aeris, and I, cut through here running from Don Corneo. You can get to the ShinRa building this way but it's hell going. I think we killed most of the monsters but be careful." Bluish lights shone periodically, but not often enough, and the darkness in between was like midnight. Shadows loomed at unreal angles, reminding Reno of a horror movie funhouse. It would have been awesome, he thought again, if it hadn't been real.

A blocked piece of track left them no option but to go through a train car. Cloud broke out the bottom door window to let them in, and the debris forced them to crawl on their hands and knees. Something bumped against the wall outside; Reno froze. "What the fuck was that?" he whispered, and hoped the thing outside didn't hear him.

"Not sure. It's far from uninhabited down here, it could be anyone or anything." Cloud leaned up to peer from one of the windows and what he saw made him doubt his sanity. Against the adjacent car he could see the shadow of a man standing, spiked hair defying gravity and the silhouette of a huge sword crossing his back. "No, it can't be..."

"Cloud? Babe?" At that moment a man crashed through the window of the train car and Reno hit him with his EMR at the same moment Cloud cried out to stop him.

It was the last of the fugitive techs.

Not Zack.

_Not Zack._ Cloud looked back up at the window, then through it. The spikes were nothing but the remains of an old satellite array, and what he thought was a Buster Sword was the broken angle of a downed crane. He pressed the palm of his hand into his chest. "Are you all right?" Cloud's nod was far from convincing, but they needed to get out of there before discussing it further. Reno looked up and said, "Can't send the confirmation into HQ from here, no signal. Have to take care of it when we get back. Let's get out of here."

They were, after all, too damn close to the Sector 7 column now for his comfort, and he had his own ghosts to fight. They pulled themselves up, just outside the back door of the ShinRa Tower and collapsed against the half wall of the loading dock. "You okay now babe? You kinda lost it, in the train."

"Yeah. I am now. I thought I saw Zack. It was just a shadow. I never forgave myself, really, he sacrificed himself to save me, and I wasn't able to save him."

"I didn't realize it still...well that sounds shitty. I guess I should have, but damn. You never talk about it."

"Because it didn't seem in good taste to go on about my dead boyfriend to the man I actually married."

"Tell me about him? How you knew him." He pulled Cloud close, this strong, sexy, brave man that had become his mate. Dirty, exhausted, and worn down to their last nerves, it was the kind of conversation they could only have at a time like this. But Cloud was quiet for a while before taking a deep breath.

"I was a cadet. About as green as they come. Zack...he was so beautiful, and so popular with everyone, you know? It was impossible not to love him so I didn't think I was special. But he kept pulling me along, teasing me about my hair, my height, taking me out for beers in places where I wouldn't get busted for my age. I remember being so scared he'd get in trouble for...for us, you know? He just said 'Spikey, some things are worth it, or it's not living.'"

"He was right."

"Yeah, but he could also be such a pain in the ass. He was so irresponsible. Never paid bills, never kept up with anything practical. I was doing multifund accounting by the time I was eighteen just to make sure nothing got repossessed, and always saying "No, Zack, you don't need to buy a chocobo farm" and things like that. Not because he couldn't afford it but because I realized inside of two months, he'd have forgotten he had the damn thing and I'd be coming home at night and shoveling chocobo shit. I loved him, but man, he was work. And before we had a chance to grow up together and sort it all out, he was dead. I'm glad I got to pay a little of that back today."

"Me too, baby. Me too. I loved frying those bastards that hurt you."

"I think we're supposed to feel some kind of moral ambiguity over this. I don't."

"Fuck that. They didn't, or they didn't let it stop them, and you suffered, so fuck it. Let's go get some beer." He hopped down and held out his hand; Cloud took it and they walked down the sidewalk together.

"Can we clean up first?"

"Man, you're high maintenance over this hygiene shit. Let's use the gym showers, I don't feel like getting stared at the whole way home." Of course it meant that they wouldn't be having sex in them, at least in theory, but maybe they could wait for that until they got home.

In theory.

They stripped quickly in the showers of the workout facility that ShinRa now shared with the WRO, happy it was all but deserted at this hour. It wasn't as if coming back filthy and bloody was unusual for anyone, but neither felt like answering questions at the moment. Ducking into the boiling hot spray, they washed themselves in silence. Cloud finished first—he always joked that Reno's having three feet of hair added a good twenty minutes to a shower—and put on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from his locker.

As good as it felt to tie up a few personal loose ends, it felt better to be clean. Reno walked out a moment later, gloriously naked and rubbing his hair dry. He bent over to retrieve his own workout clothes from his locker and Cloud sat back to enjoy the view. Turning, Reno caught him at it.

He raised his eyebrows in a failed attempt to look innocent, and finally just said, "Nice ass."

"Skinny ass." The light banter felt good after the stress of the fight.

"Slender. Compromise? Gym is..." He was about to say "empty" when the door slammed open and a handful of rookies came in from a sparring match.

Reno dressed quickly and pulled him along. "C'mere, I know a place." He took a key off his ring and opened the door to a small, private dressing area. "Executive locker room. Old fashioned key access so it can't be shut down by power outage or electromagnetic burst. High level Turks have access in case we need to rescue Rufus."

"So, we're..."

"Having a quickie in Rufus' dressing room." Reno grinned unrepentantly and pressed him up against the wall.

"Tell me we aren't using his..."

"Oh fuck no! Not unless he's sterilized the bottle afterwards." They laughed, a stoner's laugh, really, brought on by stress and fatigue, that turned into a helpless giggle silenced only by each others' lips. Cloud pulled down his pants, then Reno's. He tore open a disposable foil packet with his teeth, not leaving anything to chance, and smeared the contents over his own aching hardness. "Turn around."

Reno did as he was told, and quickly; they had no idea when or if the President would be in the mood for an impromptu "workout" and walk in on them. He leaned his arms into the wall and felt Cloud push two fingers against his entrance, making the act of preparation a seduction in itself, and enter him.

Turning his head on a kiss, he noticed something else over the raging lust in his brain: he could see them in the huge gilt-frame mirror. He watched them for a few moments and felt like a voyeur looking in on his own body, watched Cloud's hands grip his slender, more pale hips and thrust against him as he pressed back in response. Let himself become incredibly, impossibly aroused by the sight. "Oh shit, babe. Look. Look at us."

"Fuck," was Cloud's romantic response, though Reno could hardly blame him for his lack of poetry. Hells, it was _hot_. Reno stood in awe as he watched those muscular hips pistoning in and out of him, felt the way it hit his prostate with every thrust, and knew he wouldn't last long.

Well, he did say it would need to be a quickie, after all.

But when Cloud's hand slipped around to grasp and pump him, he didn't even have time to take in a breath of warning, he came so fast. He heard Cloud grunt twice into the sweatshirt he still had bunched up under his arms, and go still.

Reno leaned his head into the wall, then look down in a businesslike manner to check for evidence. There was none; damn, but Cloud was good. "Let's clean up and get out of here, yo."

"Yeah." Reno winced as Cloud pulled out of him, then turned him around and kissed him tenderly. "I love you, Reno. "

"Love you too, babe." He gave him another soft kiss. "I'm gonna knock out the paperwork at the office, then I'll meet you at the bar for that beer, ok?"

"Yeah," he said again, still a bit dazed. Reno made one last check of the dressing room, and they left.

* * *

><p>He had promised to be good.<p>

He had promised to behave.

But whether Reno had known, somehow, that Cloud was simply incapable of turning completely away from his subversive ways, or that he was best just not tempting him to lie by getting too specific, he had not told him "Do not hack into ShinRa databases on the subject of former Science Research Division employees while I am at work or otherwise not able to catch you at it and make you the subject of lectures and disapproving glares that I don't actually mean, but feel duty bound to deliver."

And it was a damn good thing, too. He had about two hours while Reno filed the paperwork from their little joint mission through the slums and train graveyard, and he didn't plan on wasting it. His sword callused fingers skated cleanly over the keyboard, making quick work of whatever clerk had imagined to be a clever password. It took him longer than expected because the records he was looking for weren't there; they had been neatly scrubbed from the system years ago.

But in a computer, nothing is ever really gone. A knock, softer than it should have been, and then the turning of a key in the door was the only sign that his friend had arrived. Even knowing the cadence of the footfall as he did, his hand was never far from his sword. He looked up. "Damn, Vin. You look like shit."

"Thank you, Cloud. And you are looking fit as well. How is it going?"

"Slow. Very slow. Having to take indirect routes. I did manage to find that we both had subject numbers but not what they were. And this."

"What am I looking at?"

"They appear to be transfers of supplies between hospitals, or in this case, between Hojo's research labs and a mental health facility called Gardner State Asylum. There's just one thing, supplies have tracking numbers, so they don't get mixed up, right?"

"Why don't I like where this is going, Cloud?"

"Because the tracking numbers don't correspond to anything kept in inventory? And they are the same number of digits as the numbers assigned to us. Vin, you really don't look well. Seriously, what is going on?"

He rubbed his forehead. "The headaches are getting worse and I haven't slept worth a damn since it all started. I feel so...distant? Is that a good word? Rude dragged me to the doctor and I'm now on antidepressants, on top of everything else. I can't say they're doing much. The news I was possibly traded to a mental hospital as merchandise isn't helping a great deal, suddenly."

"Tifa was on antidepressants for a while, she said it took over a month to work."

"Do I look like I'm going to survive a month? Why did she quit?"

"She says they made her fat." Both men shrugged. "So the only one we're actively trying to track down for now is Belzec because you recognized him. That's when you started feeling like shit, isn't it? After Costa?"

Vincent nodded "The dreams are getting worse too. There's a woman in them, young, pretty. And an older one with a syringe. I only sleep while Rude's at work so I don't keep him up." He started to say something, and stopped. "Let's get to work. I'd like to solve this, if possible. I'm very tired."

"Okay, let's get to it." The two men began to type, speaking only to correct each other and compare notes, until it was time for Vincent decided he'd had enough and went home to rest.

* * *

><p>Reno joined Cloud at the bar with a passionate kiss, ignoring Tifa's usual throat clearing. "What?"<p>

"No tongue in public, boys."

"Hey, we have had a hard work week, give us a break. And this case from hell is now officially half solved. My half, anyway."

"Well congrats, Reno. Have a shot." She poured him something that privately, he thought looked like tree sap, but he drank it. It wasn't bad, and tasted a bit like a butterscotch candy. It was the kind of shot that he usually drank far to many of and ended the evening by crawling back to his apartment with his keys between his teeth. He shoved the shot glass back toward her in the universal request for a refill.

"I hope you don't mind, I invited Vin up. He's alone while Rude's visiting his mother and he looked pretty awful when he was over today."

"I'm not going to ask what he was doing when he was over today. And I'm going to ignore that innocent look you are so bad at giving."

Cloud's phone rang. "Hey, Vin. You running late? Hello?" He hung up. "Okay, that's weird."

"Butt dial?"

"Possibly." He sipped his beer. "I'm gonna go check on him. He's just been so out of it lately."

"Okay, babe. Call if you need anything."

Fifteen minutes later, Reno's work PHS rang, the number Cloud only called in absolute emergencies. "Reno, get over here. Bring your bag. Something is wrong." He hung up and grabbed his medical bag out of the trunk of his work car, running for the condominium that Valentine shared with his partner, as fast as he could.

* * *

><p>"What happened?"<p>

"He seemed to be having a migraine, a bad one, then all of a sudden he just collapsed. He said something about not being able to see; the auras do that sometimes."

"Okay, has he been throwing up? You know, like you do with these things?"

"Probably." Reno decided to err on the side of generosity, and give the man a little relief. At any rate, the anti-nausea medications packed a hell of a narcotic punch and that alone would help.

"Ok, Vincent, now for the migraine. Cloud, call an ambulance." He pulled out a small ampule and stuck it up his patient's nose and squeezed. That done, he took the phone from Cloud and began to rattle off vital signs and the drugs and dosages he had given Vincent. Then, he dialed Rude's number and told him what had happened, and hung up. "Now, we wait."

"Maybe you should have gone to med school. You're good at this. You take awesome care of me when I'm sick and I've lost count of how many times you've stitched me up. What did you stick up his nose?"

"It's something to compress the blood vessels in the brain, stops the migraine but only temporarily. We need to get him to the hospital though, I don't like the chances that he may have had a stroke."

A moan from the floor punctuated the sentiment. "Hang on, Vin. They're on the way. Okay, why don't I get this awesome nose shit when I'm groaning in agony?"

"The next time you go into a seizure and lose consciousness, we'll talk. I keep them on me just in case you do, you know. Do you know anything he had eaten? Any new medications he was on?"

"Antidepressants. He's been in such bad shape, the doctor started him on an antidepressant a week or so ago."

"Cloud, can you find the bottle for me? Actually, all of his bottles. But especially that one." Since the two men were on most of the same pills, it didn't take Cloud long to pick out the medicine in question and hand it to Reno. "Maybe I _should_ have gone to med school."

While he waited for the ambulance, the profiler in Reno took in his surroundings. He had never been inside his partner's home since he had moved in with Vincent, and what he saw surprised him.

The kitchen where he stood was tiled in light marine blues and copper, the fixtures an expensive shade of casual and, Reno suspected, largely unused. Satisfied that Vincent was stable, he got up and went into the living room. The furniture was simple, tasteful, classic; walls were covered with ornate antique frames holding pictures of Rude's mother and, in a few, a laughing Vincent. It took Reno a moment to recognize him. Several very old pictures of Grimoire Valentine also graced the walls, along with a woman Reno did not recognize. Vincent's mother? She was pretty, her fine boned Wutai features giving another clue to the mysterious gunman's heritage.

But what surprised him most was the way the tall, arched windows and mirrors brought light into the place like an atrium. A small reading nook was tucked into one side of the window, and a bakers rack holding pots of aromatic herbs—for tea?—on the other. The whole place was designed to bring in a lightness and fresh growing smell that he wouldn't have associated with either his partner or the man's lover, and it brought him up short. _What were you expecting, a vampire's castle?_

Since that was exactly what he had been expecting, he held his peace and turned from the window.

"Reno? We have another problem." Cloud pulled his hand away from Vincent's face, where he'd been supporting the man's head, and his fingers were bright red with fresh blood. A lot of it. Before he could abandon every bit of training he ever had and descend into pure terror, Reno heard sirens and nearly wept with relief.

* * *

><p>Rude tore through the surgical waiting area entrance with barely contained panic. "Where is he?"<p>

"Recovery. He'll live. It looked worse than it was."

"What happened? It was as fast as I could get here from Costa. Reno..."

"It's okay, calm down. He had another migraine, a bad one. He'd apparently been vomiting earlier and ruptured a blood vessel in his esophagus. By the time they got him into surgery to scope him, it had almost healed, they didn't even have to stitch it. They'll likely just leave him sedated until the pain passes. Cloud's with him now."

"What's causing this? Damn it!"

"This time? The pills. The antidepressants. They trigger migraines in people susceptible, and there is some evidence it's worse if there has been mako exposure. He's been taken off of them."

"So now he's sick _and_ depressed. Fantastic."

"Basically." Reno rubbed his forehead as if staving off his own headache, and grasped his partner's shoulder to convey what comfort he could. "Go see him. He's stoned off his ass, but he'll know you're there."

Cloud returned after a few moments and leaned against Reno. "This is not the way I intended on my day of celebration going."

"Me either. I could use a drink."

"Yes, I'd like to get obliterated. We no sooner wrap up half this damn case than Vin nearly bleeds to death on his kitchen floor."

"Yeah. And we still have the other half to solve."

"Reno, you are a bucket of sunshine, do you know that?"

"I try, yo. I do try."

"Have I ever told you how happy I am that I have you?"

"Well, I'm glad I'm doing someone some good, Rude is at the end of his rope and I can't seem to do one damn thing to help him."

"It will work out. Come on, let's get some food in our stomachs."

They were halfway through their dinner, grilled cheese sandwiches and beer, greasy comforting food for a day that needed comfort, when Reno's phone rang. Cloud could tell by his expression that it was not good news.

"That was Rude. Vincent checked himself out of the hospital while Rude was in the cafeteria. He's gone."


	3. Time Out of Mind

_Last time I was here it was raining  
>It ain't raining anymore<br>The streets were drowning  
>Waters waning<br>All the ruins washed ashore  
>Now I'm just looking through the rubble<br>Trying to find out who we were  
>Last time I was here it was raining<br>It ain't raining anymore—Ryan Adams, Dirty Rain_

* * *

><p>"I need to go to Nibelheim."<p>

Cid Highwind wiped the tea off his shirt that he had just spit all over himself in an undignified start, happy really that he hadn't pissed his pants in the bargain. "One of these days, Valentine, I will tie a bell around your neck. And when he hell did you even get on this continent? Or how?"

"You ask that, sitting on an airfield? I chartered a flight from Kalm."

"Ya look tired." He looked worse than tired; he looked halfway back to being the haunted loner they had picked up out of a coffin years ago, a spirit at odds with the flesh it inhabited, as if barely touching this planet and loathing every minute it did so. And Cid didn't like it one damn bit.

"I've been better," he admitted, a bit unnecessarily. On second look, Cid took in the thinness, the shadows under the cheekbones. Something, something big was definitely amiss and he knew he would have absolutely zero luck getting it out of the tight-lipped gunman until he was ready to talk on his own terms.

Cid's eyes narrowed critically at his friend. "So if yer so good a chartering them damn planes, what ya need me for to get to Nibelheim?"

Vincent stood for a moment, struggling with a glib reply and finding himself too out of practice with such. "I do not wish to go alone."

"What happened to the boyfriend?"

"I don't have one." Cid stared. Vincent stared back. And perhaps for the first time in their relationship, Vincent looked away first, tracing the edge of the ashtray with the finger of his gauntlet. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"I could use a place to stay. I appear to be temporarily homeless."

Cid pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what he was getting himself into. "Why not."

* * *

><p>"So what're we lookin' for, other than a needle in a haystack?" He had filled Cid in on the basics of what he and Cloud had found previously in their hacking adventures.<p>

"Patient transfer records to Gardner State Asylum. Or anything relating to the place. You may find them filed under subject or patient numbers."

Cid hauled down an archival storage box, the indestructible kind that would last into the next millennium. The lid, however, had mildewed shut; he tore it off with great enthusiasm, and then what Vincent said actually sunk in. "But that place has been closed down for..."

"Decades?" A trace of the old ironic lilt still inhabited Vincent's warm baritone, though a fey quality did as well. Hairs raised up on the back of Cid's neck.

"What happened? This has something to do with that cold case project, doesn't it? I know Reno and Cloud caught a bunch of lab techs, and good riddance. But they're lookin' for somebody big, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Who are _you_ looking for?"

"I don't know." His shoulders sagged. "I don't remember. I feel so strange. What's in that box?"

"Trustee Meeting Minutes. Oh joy, even then the world was ruled by meetings. Wait, says it was held on theAsylum grounds."

"Let me see."

"Vince, it's just old-"

"That's him. He was a trustee of the Asylum. Belzec. The nightmares started when I saw his picture."

"And you think you were there? At the Asylum?"

"Maybe, I wouldn't be the first subject Hojo rented out for other...experiments."

"Let's keep going."

Hours later, both covered in soot and mildew and frustration, Cid went for tea and a smoke.

Vincent went for answers.

* * *

><p>He left the cave to find Cid smoking near the entrance. "Find out anything?"<p>

"Other than the fact that once the sentiment wears off, exes are revealed to be a hugely bad idea? Gods that woman was—is—a self deluded fool."

"Hmmm." Cid found his cigarette unbearably fascinating, all of a sudden.

"Fine, I realize I spent an inappropriate amount of time moping over her. I get that now."

"Inappropriate. Well, that's a good word for it, my friend. And then you get a perfectly serviceable replacement and dump him, outta the blue, just like that." Cid snapped his fingers for effect and gave his friend a pointed glare through the smoke.

The look Vincent gave him made it clear the subject was dropped, for now. "On a more practical front, I was shipped off to the crazy house down the hill for not quite a year because Hojo likely got a nice fat check; it was better than keeping one of his failed experiments in the basement gathering dust, I suppose."

"She admitted that?"

"No, it's not like we sat down and had a conversation over a chilled pinot, Cid. We still can communicate, after a fashion. I saw it, in her mind, before she shut down the images and steered her thoughts to more benign subjects. It is not exactly a new conversational tactic of hers, after all. Meanwhile, Belzec, who I have no idea the part he plays in this other than the fact he doubled as a grants manager and a hospital trustee-"

"And tell me that ain't like the town vet ownin' the barbecue shop."

"Indeed. The asylum buys 'ruined experiments' from Hojo and runs their own experiments on them. Belzec who is dirty and ass deep in all of this gets me...and what?"

They sat on a ruined stone fence and shared a speculative look, Cid finishing his cigarette and staring at the sky. "Yeah, we still haven't found out what Belzec did that was so bad that your life, after all you've been through, is just now going down the shitter."

"I have to find out."

"You have to find out."

"I don't want to find out."

"If you got a fuckin' choice, I'd sure like you to find it on a map."

But they didn't find out, not in several trips to the mansion. Nor did Vincent find it in a multitude of emails and phone calls with Cloud, or his own hacking which he had to admit came in a distant third to Yuffie's and Cloud's. Instead they found frustration, fatigue, and more oppressive dream material which Vincent complained that he had enough of already. Mostly, he moped.

"Get out of my workroom, Vincent." Shera glared at him. No, she _glared_ at him. The engineer might as well have had glowing eyes and an attendant demon or three.

"Cid threw me out of the hangar."

"And I wonder why? For being in the way? Or for dragging around like a kicked puppy? If you are going to sulk, at least do so out of the path of traffic."

Vincent wondered just how she got the reputation for being mousy. Whoever thought that did not know her, or mice, very well. And so he went back to moping around the Highwind residence, got in Shera's way, and annoyed Cid on the subject of his nonstandard, just-friends-but-married-anyway relationship to the engineer.

"You got a lotta nerve havin' anything to say on that subject. Just _who_ is it, sleepin' in _whose_ guest room because they're on the outs with their own boyfriend?"

Vincent shut up. But he kept right on moping.

Weeks later, they made another trip and found more meeting notes, more things that looked innocuous on the surface. This time Vincent packed them up, took them back to Rocket Town, scanned them and sent them to Cloud in a massive email that would probably crash the ex-mercenary's computer into a giant fireball. But what the hell, Vincent was in a "when in doubt, send it" mood; his critical thinking skills were not at their peak.

Cleaned from his labors and with a stomach full of Cid's excellent cooking—Shera's skills peaked at scrambled eggs—he sat on the porch and watched the sunset, drinking a cheap beer he wouldn't have been caught dead with back home. He heard the front door creak shut behind him, but did not turn. "So, the straight shit this time. What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know. And that's the straight shit." His language had gone the way of his reasoning skills, it seemed, and he wasn't in a mood to correct it.

"You left Rude. Why?"

Vincent slumped in his chair, too tired to hedge the question anymore. "I...I couldn't go home. I don't know. I just feel so detached. Cid, I see him looking at me and he wants to help so badly, and he wants me to be like I was before all this started, and he can't help, and I can't be what I was, and finally I had to run away from that look on his face. All he wants it to make this better and he can't."

"You ever think all he wants is you, ya stupid shit?"

"You have no idea what is going on."

"Last I checked neither did you. Shitty time to dump your boyfriend, yanno, when you need help. Just my opinion. Want another beer?"

"Rather." He was peevish, partly because he was tired and sore from digging through a moldy basement for over a month without significant result. But it was also because he suspected Cid—who had not been a great fan of his relationship with a Turk, any Turk and was suddenly taking Rude's side of things—was right and he was too cowardly to do anything about it. He followed Cid inside and sat at the breakfast bar, idly picking up one of Shera's women's health magazines.

Tucked in between the articles on breast self exams, which he skipped, and how to drive your man wild in bed, which he thought about reading before he remembered he had no reason to do so anymore, he spotted a title.

_Running: Could It Be Your New Depression Prescription?_

Well, it couldn't possibly be any worse than the pills, could it? And why the hell was he reading a women's health magazine?

"Here's your beer. Sorry, had to go out to the garage to get a new case. I'm tellin' Shera you're readin' that!"

"Tell the world, I have nothing left to lose. Does Rocket Town have an athletic store?" He opened his beer and took a long pull from it. Why the hell did trash beer always taste better at Cid's? Another of the planet's great mysteries.

"Yeah, out on Lee and Congress. Won't catch me dead in there."

"No, I'm guessing I wouldn't. Mind if I borrow the truck tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. We taking a day off from digging in the mold?"

"I think we need one. Or two."

The next day Vincent returned from town with a new pair of running shoes, a few athletic outfits, and sage advice from the store owner to start slowly and break in the shoes no matter how healthy he thought he was.

He ignored it. Hours later he had come to the conclusion that vomiting blood wasn't really such a bad way to go, and staggered back to the Highwind home barefoot, sore, and blistered. Cid followed him down the hallway and into his room, as usual, without knocking and looked down at his panting form with a smirk. "Doin' this for your health, are ya? The kid called, said he uncovered some shit that might not be anything. Call him anyways."

"When I can lift a phone." But he dragged himself up and showered, and called Cloud who had hacked into medication schedules at the asylum.

"You were given peridol, a lot of it, on a weekly basis. It had to be part of an experiment, unless you had very regularly scheduled nervous breakdowns."

"I wouldn't be surprised at either option. How much?"

"Two hundred milligrams."

"That's enough to paralyze a zolom."

"I know. Like I told Cid, it doesn't make sense but at least..."

"At least we can add it to the heap of things that don't make sense? Still it explains the dreams about needles, I guess. Maybe Cid and I can make another trip to Nibelheim if he has a light day, see if we can find anything that correlates to this schedule." Cid walked back in and shamelessly eavesdropped, no knock, but carrying a cold beer this time so Vincent let it slide.

"Sounds good. How are you?"

"Better. I took up running today."

"And?"

"I'd kill myself, but I'm looking for new experiences."

The next day, Cid had time for a trip to Nibelheim so they returned with a bit more focus this time, and made considerably more progress than the first trip. "Yanno what I notice first off?"

"Roach dung?"

"That too. The meetings are the same days as you were drugged. Could be coincidence. Or, could be the bigwigs wanted to see the results of whatever experiments they were doing."

They returned to Rocket Town and washed the filth off, layer by layer. When Vincent thought he could see skin again, he called Cloud and told him what they had found, and went to bed.

The next morning, he and his new running shoes glared at each other for an hour or two, and he finally dragged up the courage to lace them up. He ran as far as Cid's mailbox and back to the house.

He wasn't dead. So, he did it again. Thinking not to push his luck, he went inside and had breakfast, then answered a few dozen emails from Cloud who, it seemed, had never entertained the concept of a paragraph and hit send after each coherent thought.

Then, he lay back on the old fashioned faded quilt in the Highwind guest room, and began to think.

He had been happy, if somewhat unstable and demon-possessed and sometimes a bit of a troublemaker. Then, against good sense and better advice, he had opened a door to his past that his brain had not wanted to open. And had begun to dream.

The drugs that kept him functioning after the final conflict with Omega also produced the unwanted side effect of making the dreams more vivid, and so he had bounced, like a broken pinball machine, between not taking them, and suffering the mentally crippling side effects. Depression had taken hold of him like a black fog, and the new medicine had immersed him in waves of red agony he could not even describe, even now.

He still remembered that last day, groping blindly for his phone, trying to see around the gray pinpricks of what was left of his vision. He had been unable to dial and could only hit the button for the last number, praying with no small irony that it wasn't Midgar Power and Light from the last time he paid his bill, and was instead someone who actually cared.

It was. But it was also the moment he knew he had to leave.

He still paid the bills and mortgage on the Edge condo, probably always would. He didn't have it in him to do anything with it. The thought of cleaning it out and selling it was too much.

What the hell was happening to him? What if Cid was right, if by trying to save Rude, he had blown a huge, irreparable hole in the fabric of his life, and everyone else's to boot? Rather than sob into his pillow, which he was dangerously close to doing, he put his shoes back on. This time, he didn't stop at the mailbox. This time, he didn't stop until long past dark, when he was too exhausted to think of home, or Rude, or memories of anything at all.

* * *

><p>"Well, I don't know if what we found is worth anything, but it turns out there were several bank drafts made between Hojo's division and the Asylum, all corresponding to patient transfers. But that only confirms our suspicions and doesn't tell us anything new. Seems to be a recurring theme." Vincent ran an ice pack down his calf which was supposed to do something or other with the lactic acid buildup and prevent cramps. He couldn't swear it was working, though. He'd been running for a month and it still felt like his legs were going to fall off, every time. At least his brain was feeling better, so it wasn't a total loss.<p>

"Interesting, though. I found some things here too, and I think you should come back and have a look."

"You can't send it here?"

"I could, but you know, this would be a good deal more effective if you were on the same continent." After a considerable silence, Cloud said patiently, "I don't know what happened, but you can't avoid him forever if you want to solve this. He's a Turk and he's on this case and we're working with him."

"Nothing happened. I just didn't go home. I'm sick, I'm crazy, I don't know what's happening, and he deserves better."

"Vin, you are, to quote Reno, crazy as a shithouse rat, but that's nuts even for you. Rude loves you and you aren't protecting him from shit. You dumped him and he's miserable. _You_ are miserable. It's your choice but don't dress it up in bullshit." Vincent could hear the strain of the case breaking through in his friend's voice. "Now, come home and solve this case, at least, and then you can go back to your damn coffin but if I can get past all the shit with Zack, please, don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining, okay?"

"I'll see you soon." He hung up, and went inside to pack. But Cid followed him to his room.

"I'm goin' with ya."

"Cid..."

"No, hear me out. I'm worried about ya and just for once, accept the help. You need a ride back anyway less you plan on a nice long swim to go with that run."

He neglected to mention that there was a perfectly good ferry, or that he could charter a plane as he had done the last time; it would save Cid the trouble of formulating an argument. "Fine. Cid?" He looked up from the bed, and stared blankly at the opposite wall as if finding the faded picture on it of utmost importance, then back at his oldest friend.

"Yeah?"

"I have completely, thoroughly, massively fucked up my life."

Cid smiled at his matter-of-fact tone. "You're alive. Means you got a chance to unfuck it. Let's go."


	4. Want

**Want**

* * *

><p><em>The whole world could change in a minute<br>Just one kiss could stop it spinning  
>We could think it through<br>But I don't want to, if you don't want to_

_We could keep things just the same_  
><em>Leave here the way we came<em>  
><em>with nothing to lose<em>  
><em>But I don't want to, if you don't want to—Sugarland, Want To<em>

* * *

><p>It had taken two weeks of being back on the continent before Rude saw him.<p>

He was playing a little one on one basketball with Reno to avoid going back to the motel room he had been renting—the condo was too haunted, too agonizing—when he looked up to the second floor track and saw Vincent running.

This was new. But then, he hadn't seen his former lover in nearly three months. Many things could have changed, and obviously had. He was rounding a corner, head down, earplugs in. His hair, where it had worked out of the ponytail, had stuck to his face with sweat and his face was flushed with exertion. He was thin and though he looked better than when he'd left, Rude thought he could still see the tell-tale shadows under his eyes and cheekbones.

He had never been so beautiful.

Reno shook his arm. "C'mon man. Past will eat you alive if you look at it too long, yo."

Yes, yes it would. And he would be more than willing to let it; if memory served, Vincent was quite skilled at eating him alive and he wouldn't mind giving a go for old times sake. Still, he found the strength to look away. But Reno won the game handily.

But the next day, Vincent called him and though the subject matter was business, the tone was friendly and only slightly tense. And two days later Rude called him back, because the notes in his head and the notes on his computer collided, exploded, and spilled out in a giant mess when confronted with Vincent's latest email, a request that he or Reno copy some files out of the archives, the tone obvious in its need for secrecy.

Whatever else lay between them, Rude knew in his heart that they made one hell of an investigative team. And so they braved the inclement weather and their own issues to meet at a small, anonymous pub with home brewed stouts and bartenders who minded their own business—in short, not Seventh Heaven.

"So what we have is a nurse filing sexual misconduct charges against our questionable trustee and then falling down the stairs of Gardner State Asylum." Vincent pushed the folder across to him.

"Fishy."

"At the very least. But these pictures, which you so kindly stole from the archives for me…"

"Copied. Not stole. I do not steal from ShinRa."

"Of course. You _buy_ all those sticky note pads to make grocery lists. As I said, what is wrong with this picture? Other than the fact a twenty three year old woman is conveniently dead."

Rude tore his eyes away from Vincent for a moment to look at the picture. "Her head is at the bottom of the stairs."

"Yes."

"The blood is running up toward her chin."

"Yes. Up."

"This is insane."

"Well, it was an asylum at the time."

"Vin." He looked up from the picture into Vincent's unashamed grin, and his heart squeezed in on itself. Instead of whatever he intended to say, he ordered another round of stouts and moved them to a table. "This dude just gets dirtier and dirtier."

They spread out their papers, taking care around the beer mugs. Vincent stopped occasionally to make corrections in his timeline and scrawl margin notes. The meeting minutes that Vincent and Cid had found in Nibelheim were collated with medication schedules, hallway camera footage, and other trivia. By the end of their brainstorming session, they had a fair idea of how Enrico Belzec had spent his workdays, but not what had sent Vincent teetering off into the depressive blackness that had nearly claimed his sanity.

That was still a mystery.

When their stomachs began to growl, Rude ordered onion rings with beer cheese sauce and they kept right on going. "Do you still have the dreams?"

"The ones that don't make sense? Yes, regularly." He began to put away some of his notes. "Do you want me to send you a copy of these?"

"If you don't mind. Reno has been dedicating more time to this since he and Cloud shut down their side of it, and he and Elena are pretty good at seeing connections the rest of us miss."

"I'll email them over in the morning. Gods, I'm exhausted."

"Still not sleeping well?"

"Or at all. I had to cut the sleeping pill in half because of the dreams."

Concern spiked in Rude; Vincent's sleep disorders were epic. "Is that a good idea?"

"Almost certainly not, but it beats going stark raving mad. Been there and done that."

Rude paid their tab before Vincent could argue and the two of them waited outside the pub for their respective cabs. Staring out at the rain-slicked pavement, Vincent said, in a voice almost too soft to hear, "I have missed you."

There was too much to say for Rude to respond, so he only replied, "Yes."

A taxi pulled up and Vincent gave a "you first" motion; Rude turned to him. "Vin, I—"

He turned away a little, looking down the street and away from the scrutiny of Rude's eyes. "Don't. Don't say it, please."

"Okay. Still do, though." Rude climbed into the cab and was gone into the night.

* * *

><p>He thought about calling Vincent back the next day under the ever-lame "wanted to see if you got home all right" excuse. Because naturally, a grown man with accelerated healing abilities, expert marksman skills, and who was perfectly capable of putting his fist, brass or flesh, through the body of any assailant, needed Rude's help to travel across town.<p>

Right.

Still, to not hear that voice when he had once heard it every day of his life was possibly the hardest thing he had ever done.

Fortunately work both distracted him and gave him a chance to see the man himself. He had no sooner placed his work bag on his desk than Tseng gathered them all and led them down the hallway.

"So, where we off to now Boss?" Reno mumbled around his breakfast muffin.

"The one place we haven't been, though, likely the one place we should have searched first. The ruins of Gardner Asylum are far enough outside the city of Nibelheim that they escaped the fire; it stands to reason, good citizens never want a criminal or mentally ill element too close. The building is in extreme disrepair, and we may find nothing, but it is an avenue we cannot leave unexplored."

Reno crumpled the wrapper and tossed it at an ashtray, and missed. Rude was unsurprised; he had no better luck with cigarette butts. "Valentine coming with us?"

"Yes. Neither Reeve nor I thought it wise considering his present mental state, but as he was a victim of whatever has happened, we cannot deny him. Not to mention, short of locking him up, he is somewhat...determined once he sets himself on a course of action and it would be unwise at best, impractical at worst, to attempt to prevent him."

"Good luck locking him up," Rude muttered, packing his duffel for the trip.

"There is that, yes. Meet at the flight deck, people. It's likely to be a long, unpleasant trip."

They rode in relative silence to the outskirts of Nibelheim and the decaying ruins of what had to be the ugliest building Rude had ever seen. It had once been white, or some color close to it and had been built in the shape of a plain rectangle, its size and shape giving it a looming, intimidating impression. Black empty windows stared out at them like a witch's missing teeth and a reinforced gate which had once closed over the door now hung on one rusted hinge. Rude had seen less disturbing haunted house displays.

"I thought mental health facilities were supposed to give off a feeling of 'Let us help you,' not 'Please, don't scream.' Elena whispered.

"Times have changed," the smooth baritone spoke for the first time that day.

He looked to his side to find Vincent standing beside him in the gray chill air. "I suppose it's too late, and useless besides, to tell you I think this is a bad idea."

A ghost of a smile touched the gunman's lips. "Yes, but thank you. Besides the possibility that I can be of help here, I hope to solve the mysteries in my own mind, to quiet my own torment. Maybe the answer is here."

"Maybe I could have brought it back to you."

"But probably not. Let's go, Rude." And just like that, he was walking through the gate, fearless or desperate, or Rude thought, perhaps a bit of both.

It was a fortunate convenience that all government buildings were laid out fairly the same, and so it took them little time to find the offices. Vincent's lock picking skills were the first to come in handy as he unlocked a series of rusty file cabinets. "I was likely kept in a maximum security wing. Look for files concerning that."

"Why?" Elena sounded horrified, but then, this whole place was beginning to horrify her. Something about it was just...evil.

He smiled indulgently at her. "I was not always as you see me now. My demons were not under my control, and I was significantly modified for greater strength. They would have have had to put certain precautions in place, for their own safety."

"Personally I think it have been rather gratifying to have Chaos make a snack of the staff," she said indignantly. "Wait, Reno? I found the patient assignments by year."

It didn't take them long from there to locate Vincent's patient number, his official diagnosis of anxiety disorder, a drug cocktail guaranteed to keep him heavily sedated, where he was kept, and his "treatments."

None of which included any sort of therapy. All of which included more paralyzing drugs.

They looked up the personnel notes on the nurse who had been murdered, finding out only that the cause of termination was death. "Shocker that, yo. These days Rufus would have just turned her into a stockholder." Other searches of personnel records yielded only information that they already knew. Suddenly, Tseng looked up with a sharpness that experience had taught the Turks to mean, something was very wrong.

"Where is Vincent?"

"Oh shit. Where is that maximum security area he was going on about?" Trust Elena's analytical mind to seize upon that piece of information, drawing it out of the day's conversation like a splinter. "I bet he went down there."

"The basement."

Rude took off at a run.

He feared he would be hiding, but Rude had no sooner called out his name that he answered, "In here."

"You scared the shit out of me."

"I apologize. I just thought if I came down to where I was held...but no." Vincent leaned against the painted brick wall and rubbed trailed his hand down the brick, a few pieces of mortar coming out like so much dried rubber. "I was here, I feel it, but I was taken somewhere else, it seems. I'm trying to remember but it escapes me, every time I get close to it. Where did they take me? And why? The records said I had no therapy, no treatments except drugs and they could have done that here. Why risk moving a demon possessed man with superhuman strength?"

It was cold, damp, seeping into their bones. Somewhere in the building, a pipe dripped while their flashlights threw wild shadows against the wall. "I don't know. I'm sorry there weren't answers here. Maybe we can find the bastard and torture it out of him."

"I'll help." They looked at each other in the halogen glare. Rude stepped closer, and put his arm around Vincent, drawing him into a kind of half hug.

"Come on. We need to get you out of here. Hells, we need to get me out of here, place is creeping me out. I didn't think anything did that anymore."

They left the building and loaded the files, endless boxes of them, onto the helicopter, each riding back with their thoughts filled with what they had, or had not, found.

* * *

><p>It was time to move on. And today, the Turks were on their way back from Junon, a mission unrelated to the case at hand but part of their daily job. Because the world did not stop for great causes, or heartache, or even Rude's budding hangover complicated by the stiff neck he had acquired by sleeping on cheap sagging motel mattresses.<p>

No, the Turks still had a job to do, but for the love of Holy, he hated Junon.

Reno wrinkled his nose. "We smell nasty, yo." And they did, like stale dead fish and the rotten-egg sulfur smell from the foundries on the military side.

"I know. Need a shower." At least he didn't have several feet of hair to wash the stench out of. Thank Gaia for small favors, and all.

"Yeah, look...you wanna come over tonight? Cloud's grilling. Unless you're really that attached to hot pot ramen noodles for the third time this week."

"Sound's good, long as it's not fish." A trip to Junon could put him off fish for weeks, and him a Costan.

Back in Edge, they changed into clothes that did not smell horrible and Reno washed his hair at Cloud's insistence, and they settled down to dinner. The rare steak and garlic fried potatoes hit the spot, Rude decided, as did the cold foamy stout. Reno was right; a subsistence diet of cup-a-soup and canned beer chilled in a plastic wastebasket only went so far toward keeping a man alive. Afterward, Rude joined his partner on the patio for a smoke.

"At the risk of reopening an old wound, yo..."

"It's okay, it hasn't healed anyway."

"Cloud says he's doing better, doing a lot of alternative depression therapies and shit. Keeping a handle on everything. Well, everything but the nightmares and the memories."

Everything but what had driven them apart in the first place. But all he said was "Good. I'm glad."

"We got a meeting on Wednesday. You gonna be okay?"

Of course he would be okay. He'd survived the last three months, hadn't he? Exchanged civil emails, even had beer, the occasional coffee with the man. It wasn't like it felt as though he were swallowing broken glass. Exactly.

"Just fine, partner."

Reno had his interrogator's look on, the one that said he didn't believe one word he was hearing, but he let it go for now.

* * *

><p>"I should get my own place."<p>

"Hmmmm?" Reeve paused in stirring the wok's contents, listening as much as he ever did, which wasn't much. "You mean, in addition to the one you are actually paying for?"

"I'm not ready to go back there."

The executive just sighed. At least he was quieter on the subject of Vincent's lack of good sense than Cid, or Cloud, or anyone else, but it was fairly obvious that Reeve thought him an idiot as well. And staying with Reeve had its drawbacks, namely the man's two cats. Never a pet person, Vincent could not decide which animal he loathed more, the misanthropic Jade who routinely chewed through his earbud and computer cables, or the irritatingly affectionate Char who shed tiny short gray hairs all over his uniformly black clothing.

Vincent's idea of a pet stopped at fish. You dumped flakes in their tank, and when they died you had a flush funeral. Done, and done.

He needed to get out of Reeve's apartment. Char hopped into his lap and nearly knocked over the wine glass with his tail; Vincent saved it at the last minute. "Fucking cat." Char gave him the one-eyed salute for that comment and was still wiping up errant drops from the tabletop when Reeve brought him his plate. "Tseng not joining us tonight?" Vincent was one of the few WRO employees who was privy to the Commissioner's private life, and he guarded his secret well.

"No, he and the Turks are working late." Reeve paused, trying to decide if he had made some faux pas, and decided to ignore it if Vincent did. "How are you doing?"

"Better. I'll live. Maybe when we get this wrapped up..."

"I think, maybe, you need to talk to someone."

"Reeve..."

"Just consider it, all right? You aren't just depressive, you're showing signs of extreme post traumatic stress. And, we don't need your help to finish this case if it costs you your health."

_This case is my health, and my life_. But Reeve wouldn't understand that. So they ate in silence as Jade paraded through the room, half of Vincent's USB connector in her mouth.

He really, really needed his own place. He finished his dinner, washed his plate, and left the apartment in a huff.

* * *

><p>No one worked this late in the ShinRa tower except the janitors, and the Turks. Rude hit save on his laptop, closed it up, and locked his office door.<p>

The light in the conference room was on.

He peered inside, one hand on his service pistol, then dropped it back to his side when he identified a familiar leather jacket and a series of coffee cups. He kept walking then returned with a bottled juice smoothie.

"Here. Something besides coffee. And what are you doing here?"

"Can't work at Reeve's, his cat keeps eating my computer cables. And please, don't tell me I'm not supposed to be working."

"Not even going to try. My nagging stops at juice, though I worry when you let coffee get cold."

Vincent looked up, as if seeing the pile of cups for the first time. "Damn. Guess I could microwave these."

"Over my dead body." Rude gathered them up and threw them in the trash before his friend could make a grab for them. "I suppose you are trying to intimidate your computer into spitting out an answer?"

"Nothing else has worked. I fear more and more the answer is locked inside my brain and not my laptop, and it's too dark to go in there alone." Vincent leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "And what supremely productive exercise has you burning the midnight oil?"

"Same thing."

"You aren't leaving until I drink my juice, are you?"

"Not a chance." They shared a tired smile, reminiscent of the friends they once were, and it felt good. Vincent opened the bottle and drank.

"Not bad. I think I'd trade it for a fifth of rockgut whiskey, though."

"You and me both. Finish it and I'll give you a ride back to Reeve's. And, you might try zipping the cables up in your bag."

"Good idea, but harder to work that way." He drained the juice. "Thanks for the ride, I think I'm actually too exhausted to walk."

"Anytime. Don't forget your jacket."

They walked down to Rude's car together in silence, and Vincent had no sooner put on his seatbelt than he was dead asleep in the passenger seat. Rude pulled up to Reeve's building and turned off the ignition, loathe to wake his exhausted friend. For a moment, he was lost in memories.

It had taken a lot to admit that his feeling for Vincent extended beyond friendship. Hells, it had taken something to admit to friendship; after childhood his social life had centered around the Turks and while Vincent had once been a Turk, well, it gave them something to talk about at first. And then they found they had other things to talk about, and that they shared a sense of humor so dry it blew dust. But admitting this deep attraction, deeper than he had ever felt for any man, though he had never really defined anything approaching a sexual preference in himself, had been jarring to say the least.

It had nearly broken his heart.

And Vincent was so masculine, so stubborn and intelligent, in every way his equal and so simultaneously maddening and easy to love. And then, he was gone. Rude woke him gently, the only indulgence he would allow himself in touching him.

"I'll see you tomorrow? At the meeting?" Vincent's voice was husky with sleep.

"Yeah. Get some rest. Watch out for the cats."

He watched his friend gather up his computer bag and other work paraphernalia, and make the overburdened, tired trek inside.

Damned if this case wasn't going to be the death of them all.


	5. Storm Windows

_It's times like these  
>When the temperatures freeze<br>I sit alone just looking at the world  
>Through a storm window<br>And down on the beach  
>The sandman sleeps<br>Time don't fly  
>It bounds and leaps<br>And a country band  
>That plays for keeps<br>They play it so slow _

_Don't let your baby down—John Prine, Storm Windows_

* * *

><p>The file on the nurse appeared to be an isolated incident and therefore a dead end. The focus went back to patient transfers and the medication records, when they had time for it at all. The Turks and the WRO had their own daily business still, and Vincent was still technically on medical leave. Reeve was not happy when he caught him working, and said as much. Still, as a contract employee working on the case, he was allowed to attend meetings on the subject and did so. Elena was delighted to see him at the Wednesday meeting and he stole a cookie off her desk, like old times, and took the time to thank Reno for his help when he was ill.<p>

"No problem, yo. Scared the shit outta me though. And we're gonna get to the bottom of this, you know that, right?" He had no doubt. Reno was smarter than people thought, a near genius if the truth were known, and nearly as stubborn as himself.

The meeting was productive, the information they had put together at the club meshing nicely with what the Turks had accumulated. They knew everything except the whereabouts of their suspect.

Productive, but not enough. They recessed to meet another day, hoping fresh minds and eyes could see something they had missed. Vincent approached Rude in the post meeting bustle of screeching chairs and asked with all the casualness he could muster, "Beer?"

"Sure. Let's walk, the weather is nice." They talked of the small things of the day, of their respective departments' gossip, of things that were nothing. They ducked through a hole in the fence to cut through an old playground, abandoned in the winter months. By some unspoken mutual agreement, they sat down on a sagging picnic table, hands stuffed into coat pockets, and looked up at the early moon. Finally Rude broke the easy quiet.

"Why did you move out?"

He was greeted with silence. It didn't surprise him, and in a way, he supposed he deserved it. Being quiet most of his life, all the words he had never said, never thought necessary, were in a way coming back to him now.

But he had to know.

Finally he looked beside him to see Vincent drawing the index finger of his flesh hand over the knuckles of his gauntlet, and finally looking up at the clouds, thin little pink feathers against the fading afternoon sky. "I didn't. I mean, I didn't mean to. I just…didn't come home that day. I couldn't. It was all too much. I could feel it breaking apart. Me getting sicker, the nightmares, knowing something was going on with this case, everything I couldn't remember lurking below the surface, it was just too big for the walls. And one night turned into ten and a hundred, and here we are."

Rude had nothing to say to that. He had always thought it would be something he could fix, something he could apologize for, or do better. Then Vincent said, "I couldn't put you through all of that."

"What?" In retrospect, he thought, he could have phrased that a little better.

"When the antidepressants made me so sick, that was the last straw. I remember waking up from surgery and seeing you, and thinking, this is enough. I can't do this anymore. This doesn't work." Frustrated, he got up and walked back to the fence by the merry-go-round.

"Vincent," he said around a mouthful of fury and memories. "I would wake up in the middle of the night and think you're still there, just up and in the kitchen or in the bathroom or something and by the time I remember you were gone, I couldn't get back to sleep. I had to leave because no matter how long you were gone you were still there. I could still _smell_ you, for fuck's sake. I don't care what's wrong. We'll work around it. You're saying _we don't work?"_

It was likely the most words he'd ever said at once in his life and he was exhausted, but he followed Vincent to the fence. "I don't know what works, Rude. I've never done this before, damn it! Do you really think I know what to do?"

They were close enough to feel each others' breath in the rapidly cooling air, and Rude did what he had wanted to do since this case had thrown them back into each others' unwilling company. He kissed him.

When he finally came up for air, Vincent was glaring. But he wasn't pulling away. "That wasn't fair."

"What is? Gods, I miss you so much, even fighting with you feels good."

Vincent gave a dry laugh and just stood there for a while. "It does. It beats the hell out of not talking."

"We'll talk, then." But they didn't, they just soaked in each others' presence. Rude reached up and ran his finger down the back of Vincent's neck

After a moment's thought, Vincent slipped back into his embrace and leaned his face into Rude's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. His voice mumbled up from their tangled scarves. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Nothing?"

"Except this," he allowed.

"So don't leave." Vincent drew a shuddering breath and tensed, and for a horrible but familiar moment Rude thought he was pulling away. But he was only shifting his stance to draw closer.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>"Where is this?" Vincent asked as Rude unlocked the motel room door.<p>

"I've been staying here. It was easier than going home." He pulled off his wool coat and scarf, throwing them at the desk and missing. He did not bother to pick them up, unable to take his eyes off them man in the center of the room, as if afraid he would vanish into thin air.

Struck dumb with the effects of his own selfishness, Vincent could only stand in the middle of the crummy motel carpet. Rude took his bag from him and put it on the nightstand.

They would go home tomorrow. Start working things out. But for now, it had been just a little too long for talking, for moving, for doing anything at all except...this. He pressed his lips against the hollow of skin just below Vincent's jaw, pushing his tongue to the space just behind his ear. He hooked his fingers in the leather jacket and pushed it off the slender shoulders, a little roughly, but he'd be forgiven.

They both would. Vincent reached up and held onto Rude like a man drowning. He pulled off his own shirt, then Rude's, desperate to feel warm flesh against his own. It seemed as if he had been so cold, so long. So alone. They pulled apart a little and Rude fastened on him with a rough kiss, parting his lips with his own and kissing his way down his throat to his chest, finally gathering him up in a tight hug. "Gods, you're back. I can't believe you're really back."

Vincent was speechless. He had been sure that at best, Rude would continue their awkward friendship and at worst, turn him out on his ass. This hungry, relieved passion was something he could barely comprehend and he looked up at him in confusion, running his thumb over Rude's lips as if confirming that they were there, swollen with their kisses.

"Fuck." Impatient, Rude stripped them both of their remaining clothing. Pulling Vincent back into his arms, he could feel him tremble. "Cold?"

"No."

"Okay with this?"

Vincent only nodded and turned his mouth up on another kiss, hungrier this time.

For all his earlier impatience getting them undressed, Rude was heart-achingly tender with him now, touching his face, his hair, even removing his gauntlet and warming his gnarled, ruined hand from the chill winter air. He led him slowly and gently to the bed, making it clear that he was not forced to follow but was welcome, and was forgiven.

That he was home. And that he would be cared for if he would only accept it, and he did. Vincent blinked slowly in understanding. They kissed again, and the touches between the two men became more heated until they finally broke into unrestrained passion.

Rude knelt on the bed and, before he could bring Vincent down to ride him, the man slipped down between his knees, kissing his way down his torso before taking his straining cock into his mouth. Rude leaned back on the bed, hissing with pleasure and fighting himself to keep from thrusting up into Vincent's mouth. But gods, it felt like heaven, after months of missing his lover's touch; and as much as his body had ached for him, he had missed his very presence.

But this. This was sheer bliss, the tongue and lips working around his heated shaft. "Gods, babe. Stop." Vincent moaned a little in protest but did, thank Gaia, stop. Rude ran his hand up against his back and down his hip, thinking that he was still far too thin, but then brought him down against him so that he was straddling his lap, pulling him in close so that their erections brushed; the action brought a pleasured gasp out of both men. Looking up slightly, Rude could just see Vincent's face through his falling hair, illuminated by the seedy streetlights coming in through the cracks in the curtains.

He thought his heart might break from the sheer beauty of it all. "Are you sure you want this?" Rude asked again

"Yes." Rude prepared him, gently and slowly, knowing that he enjoyed this part of lovemaking and he was not disappointed in the sighs and moans that resulted. Finally applying the lube to his own aching hardness, he lowered him again until he was sheathed in that tight heat that he remembered so well. He noticed that Vincent's shoulder's were tense, his breath shaky. "Too much?"

"Been three months." His voice too, sounded caught and pained.

"We can..."

"No, I just need a minute." He took a few more deep breaths and his body relaxed around Rude, his thighs no longer trembled and he rose up a bit, bringing himself down again on Rude's cock. "Yes."

Rude grasped his hips and rocked gently into him, and again. They took it slow, pausing now and then to kiss, or give little open mouthed bites to each other's necks. Vincent shifted slightly so that his own arousal rubbed harder against Rude's stomach and the resulting moan warned that it would not be long at all. His hand tightened around the back of Rude's neck and his muscles clenched. "I-"

"It's all right, babe. Let it go."

"Oh." he whispered, and then with a little gasp he came apart in Rude's arms, and Rude followed in another hard thrust, and it was all liquid heat and trembling until they clung together, spent and a little shocked with the force of it all.

It was a long while before they let go of each other, or wanted to.

* * *

><p>"I hear sex is good for depression too." Rude passed him a glass of lukewarm, metallic-tasting water. They lay next to each other on the sagging bed, and it was the best either had felt since they could remember. Vincent's head was tucked into Rude's shoulder and his hair had managed to become stuck to both of them. Though Rude's tone was teasing, underneath it his concern for his friend and lover was very real<p>

"I'll fit it in around my running schedule. Oh gods, I needed that."

"And a shower. Which sucks in this place. I guess we should have gone home." But no, it had been a little too soon for the both of them, to face the ghosts of the past. "How are you? I heard you were doing some alternative therapies."

"Exercise, something called light therapy which is not a good mix with a migraine but works on days I don't have one. I'm muddling through. I just took up swimming, too. Are you sure you want me back? I'm still so broken."

Rude gave him his best "Don't be an idiot" look, and held him close. "I'll love the pieces. All I want from you, from here on out, is a chance to work things through with you."

"I can do that" His voice was barely more than a whisper. He went on, a little stronger, "This whole ordeal, I think, has been unpleasant enough to not repeat. Even crazy."

"Good. And after this is over, I think we need a fucking vacation."

"I could use one, yes." Neither man made any move toward the tiny motel shower, content for now with their ersatz tissue cleanup. Neither, really, wanted to move.

"That little suite in Costa was nice. With the view? And the stairs? Okay, maybe not the stairs."

Vincent stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Their time in Costa del Sol seemed now like another world, something that happened to another person, so long ago."I think I'd rather be at your mother's house. That is, if she will ever forgive me for leaving you. She threatened my manhood if I ever did such a thing, and mothers can be very determined creatures."

"She will forgive you. I explained that you were quite ill and not entirely yourself. You have had quite a few candles lit in your honor, not that you won't get a few glares for it if you aren't too scared to face the music."

"I need to, and not just with Nannan. I have made rather a mess of things. I guess tomorrow I start straightening them out."

"We have time." Rude held him close, stroking his hair until they both fell into sleep, together, for the first time in in a lifetime.

* * *

><p>Long before he and Rude had ever begun dating, when he had first begun working for the WRO and that organization had first begun 'cooperating' with ShinRa under the ancient adage of "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Vincent had attended a cocktail party open to both entities.<p>

One woman he met there was the head of ShinRa's Mental Health Services Division, a formidable medical professional by the name of Doctor Doris Hankins. She was nearly six feet tall of pure muscle and her hair was the clean, buzz cut of a new recruit, just beginning to be peppered with gray. As intimidating as her appearance might be, her humor was equally self deprecating and honest; one of the first things she had told him was "Love, I've heard of you and you don't know what I'd do to get you in my office!"

He had politely turned her down.

He also had not thrown away her card.

She poured him a cup of coffee and liberally spiked it with bourbon—top shelf, he noticed—and motioned at the couch. "Valentine, I've waited years to get you on my sofa and not in the way most women would. Spill."

And he did. From the first time he had opened the file in Costa del Sol, to the nightmares, to the anxiety attacks, the depression, the escalating bouts of illness, to his inexplicable breakup with Rude. "I have to find out what this is. No matter how ugly. I can't even take my medication anymore because the side effect is vivid dreams and they are vivid enough already."

"Vincent, I read your file while you were on the way over. You cannot safely live without most of those pills, and in the right combination. And taking yourself off antidepressants cold turkey-"

"I can't safely live on them either. It's a choice between madness and death. And I didn't take myself off antidepressants, vomiting blood and blinding pain took me off antidepressants."

"How do you feel about hypnosis?"

He unfastened his gauntlet. "For your safety, Doctor."

"Do you wish to call anyone?"

"No." There wasn't time, and Rude had his own work to do.

"Let's do this, then."

It was with some trepidation that he gave control of himself to another—in bed with Rude had been notable exception—but he reminded himself that she knew about his demons and his past, and she was a medical professional aware of the risks. She was also very good at her job, especially with skittish patients, and it wasn't long before he had entered a deep hypnotic state at her guidance with her voice as his guide.

"Where are you?"

In his mind, he opened his eyes. "An examination room."

"What do you see?"

"There is a table with a syringe. It's full of the medicine I don't like. I can't move when they give it to me."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"There is a clock on the wall."

"What does it say?"

"It's five till nine. At nine they give me the shot. Then he comes."

"Who is he?"

"The man."

"Do you know who he is?"

"He's an important man. I don't know his name but the people here are afraid of him, even the ones that pretend to be nice to him."

"Why does the man come to see you, Vincent?"

"To rape me."


	6. Golden

_Like babes we come whining  
>For some forgotten sin<br>Surprised to be shining  
>Just like diamonds in the wind<em>

_Every facet so perfect  
>And every cut the proper size<br>When we find ourselves staring in God's golden eyes  
>We find ourselves staring in God's golden eyes—John Hiatt, God's Golden Eyes<em>

* * *

><p>She brought him out of hypnosis because she assumed he needed the break, but just as much, because she did as well. However, one glass of ice water and a few paces around the office, her patient was all business.<p>

"Put me back under."

"Vincent, I don't think that is a good idea."

"No, you don't understand. He babbled the whole damn time, about his kids, where he was going, trivia, his odds at the chocobo races, all kinds of crap. There is no telling what is in my head that will point us to where he is now."

She looked dubious. He went on, "I remember him boasting that he liked me because of the hint of danger, with the demons and everything."

"Which explains why he had you drugged to insensible paralysis first. All right. I'll do it but then I want you to rest. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." He was a shitty liar but she let it slide.

Three hours later he felt like a wrung out dishrag. Doctor Hankins picked up the phone. "I suppose you want this to go directly to the Turks?"

"In a moment. First, I want to speak to Rufus ShinRa."

* * *

><p>Rude had no sooner finished reading his copy of the session notes, handed out to only the four of them in the privacy of Tseng's office in an emergency meeting, than he heard the knock on his office door.<p>

"Come in." He hardly waited for it to shut behind him before he grabbed Vincent up in an unusual show of affection and held him, tight.

"How did you know it was me?" a muffled voice came up from his shoulder.

"You're the only one with the decency to knock, and the least reason to. I could beat you, you know, for doing something that reckless."

"And effective. When do you leave?"

"As soon as the copter is prepped. And how did you know I was leaving?"

"Wild guess." It was, of course, nothing of the kind. Vincent had his own conduits of information.

Rude sighed; he found himself doing that a lot, since being with Vincent. "Will you be all right?" It sounded like a stupid question, put like that.

"I think so. I actually feel better, now that it's out where I can remember it. Darkness cannot hide in light, it is said. Now, maybe, I can begin to heal." A clerk knocked on Rude's door.

"Looking for Mr. Valentine, the secretary said he might be in here?"

"It's just Vincent now, but yes." Rude raised an inquisitive brow, which Vincent ignored. He signed a paper on a clipboard and said "The President will be expecting that, I believe." The poor clerk looked as though he might soil himself, and ran out the door. "They get younger every year, don't they?"

"I suppose. What was that about?"

"Medical clearance. I'm going back to work." He hoisted a backpack and looked stern. "We'll argue about it after your mission."

Rude was used to missing the proverbial boat in arguments with his lover, but it didn't mean he was giving up. "You're damn right, we will." He glared through is sunglasses and headed to Tseng's office for the final debriefing.

Vincent watched his back retreating down the hallway. Steeling himself for what was to come, he made his own way to the ShinRa airstrip and packed the last of the items he needed into the plane, ignoring Cid's impatient look. A Junior Turk rushed up with a small duffel and a package wrapped in brown paper. "Mister Valentine-"

"Vincent, if you please," he repeated patiently. _They're so cute when they're little... _But in truth, the teenager's innocent enthusiasm made him ache, like a phantom limb.

Had he really been like that? All those years ago?

"Well, Mis...sir. These are the last of the items the President said you would need. Good luck on your trip, sir. Mister Vincent, sir." He snapped a salute and left, leaving the tall figure on the runway, his long leather duster flapping around him.

"You know, when I first met you, I didn't believe you had been a Turk, I wouldn't have believed them. There was no way I'd have seen in you the cold blooded son-of-a-bitch-ness required for this job. After today, I stand corrected."

"Doctor Hankins, I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Come back safely to us all. Good luck, and go with the gods." She patted him gently on the back and went back to her office.

"Do I wanna know what you're up to this time?" Cid spat around his cigarette as Vincent climbed into the plane. "Gettin' damn tired of playin' chauffeur to your angsty ass."

"Plausible deniability, just in case this goes badly. Just fly, and fast. I have work to do."

* * *

><p>"So, I guess we know why he went batshit now. Not that it makes it any easier."<p>

"No. Harder. But it will feel good killing the son of a bitch responsible." Rude stared out the helicopter, glad Reno was flying. Not for the first time in this case, he couldn't see past his own rage. It had been barely contained when he had said his own goodbyes to Vincent. But if the man were going back to his job at the WRO, he'd need his wits about him and not worrying about Rude, so he'd said nothing.

Seeing nothing amiss in his partner's customary silence, Reno went on. "He's got brass ones, going back into all that just for the info. Without that we wouldn't have known the dude had old gambling buddies in Wutai. We never would have thought to look there. That was the lead that broke this shit."

"No, we couldn't have done it without him." He couldn't keep the regret out of his voice. Reno knew that feeling all too well and after a few minutes of uncharacteristic inner debate, said "You couldn't have been there for him if he wouldn't let you. He's back now. Just...hold him now."

"Voice of experience, partner?"

"Yeah."

They flew the rest of the way to Wutai in quiet.

* * *

><p>Something wasn't right.<p>

They knew to expect anything, of course. But Reno responded with a low whistle and if Tseng had any reaction, he hid it beneath layers of training.

Carefully nudging open the door to the simple home, they saw Enrico Belzec sitting at his bar, a half finished glass of fine whiskey in front of him.

He was quite dead.

Three large holes bloomed red in his chest, their neat borders giving evidence to the closeness of the shooter. The body was still warm, the event having just taken place so recently that he had not even been taken into the Lifestream. Beside him sat another glass, empty but with ice still frozen in it, still smelling of alcohol, and in the chair was one Turk uniform. Though splattered with blood, it was neatly folded, even the tie creased to basic training regulation.

"Your boyfriend is not right in the head, yo."

Rude only sighed, Reno not exactly telling him anything he didn't know already.

"What I don't get is, hells. I don't get any of it. Where did he get the uniform?" Elena looked perplexed.

Tseng took a picture of the room for documentation. "He was reinstated in return for his session notes. Rufus informed me en route, but demanded I keep it confidential until the mission was completed. I suspected this was what he had in mind, but...I can only guess he intended to make it a clean, legal kill with no loose ends. And because he has a sick sense of humor. I assume he is on the way to tender his resignation."

"But why have us come anyway, if he was going to make the kill?"

"In case he failed." Rude's voice was so quiet, it was nearly inaudible, his fingers trailing down the soft material of the folded uniform, smearing the still-wet blood. "So we could finish the job. And he wouldn't be alone. Oh Vin..."

Reno picked up his PHS. "Time of death about ten minutes ago, sound good to everybody?" Tseng nodded. When they were done, Reno quietly approached him. "Are you okay? I mean, is he gone again?"

"No. No, I know where he is." And for the first time in what felt like forever, Rude grinned. "Let's go home."

* * *

><p>He walked up the familiar sidewalk, the fence gate creaking as it had since childhood. Rounding the corner to the sleeping porch, he found exactly what he had expected to find.<p>

Well, almost expected. To be honest, his heart hadn't quite settled in his chest until he saw the fall of black hair and a brass gauntlet wrapped around an absurd tourist cup shaped like a plastic blowfish. Vincent's favorite.

It was nearly two in the afternoon, the day after Vincent Valentine had walked into the home of his rapist and shot him at point blank range, after drinking the man's whiskey in front of him. After more than a year as the man's lover and twice that as his friend, he could appreciate the twisted symmetry of it all. He double checked the time; he should have a nice ripe buzz by now, if Ma's sangria was up to par. There was no reason to believe it wasn't.

Vincent looked up. "You took longer than I expected."

"You left a shit ton of paperwork." Rude sat down beside him on the old twin bed, nudging his legs out of their criss-cross posture to make more room. "You were duly instated at the time; you could have done your own, you know. Speaking of, when you said you were going back to work, you didn't exactly clarify that it wasn't for Reeve. That might have been helpful." Rude knew he was wasting his breath. He didn't know why he had started talking in the first place. Silence had always worked out so well, and Vincent looked as unrepentant as always.

"Hmmm. Possibly. Drink?" His cheeks were flushed, eyes slightly glazed. He held up the blowfish.

Yes, Ma's sangria was it's usual quality. "I'll get my own glass. How do you feel?"

"Tired. Good. Your mother has hardly let my feet touch the floor. Somehow, 'Vincent has been ill' translates into the local patois as 'Vincent will surely expire if he draws breath in effort'."

That sounded like Ma, all right. "Mind expending some effort later tonight?" Rude pulled him closer, buried his lips in the thick midnight hair just past Vincent's temple, and the resulting moan seemed to indicate that no, he did not mind at all. Then Rude paused. "Look, are you going to be okay with...with this? Now that you remember what happened? I don't want ...I _won't_ hurt you."

Vincent shut his eyes and relaxed into the embrace. He felt safe with Rude, he always had. "I think so, I don't know. I can only imagine I never had a problem before because you never made me feel threatened or trapped or helpless. But now, gods. Rude. I don't know. I have to confess, I am a little worried. What if I panic?" He leaned back and looked into the eyes of the man who had been his friend, lover, and friend again through it all. It was a possibility neither wanted to consider, but it had to be done.

Rude pulled him up again into a tight hug, and then kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, but far from a chaste one and they held each other, the silly plastic cup balanced precariously on Vincent's knee. "Then we try again. Take it one step at a time. We'll work things out. Are you going to keep seeing Doctor Hankins?"

"I think it's a good idea, if only to keep you and Reeve quiet."

Rude chuckled at that, then grew serious. "I mean it Vin, you tell me any time you're scared or hurt. This is important. And I'm not just talking about sex."

He nodded.

"I need to know what you need."

"I need another sangria. My blowfish cup is empty."

Rude sighed. Vincent was back to being utterly maddening, and that was a good sign.

Some hours later, Vincent looked up at the night sky, thinking for the first time that the saying "count your blessings" might just not be a corny piece of shit after all.

Belzec was dead. He wasn't the last of them, but he was by far the worst. He and Rude would rebuild their relationship—it wouldn't be easy, but maybe that was a good thing. They had much to learn from the effort involved. Reno and Cloud would be all right, their bond stronger for their facing of the past. And ShinRa had done some much needed house cleaning.

He had been terrified to come back here, in some ways as afraid as he was to face his own memories. He was fully aware of the betrayal of trust he had committed against Rude's mother but when he stood, hesitant, outside the gate, she had only come out to lead him into the kitchen and wordlessly prepared his drink and sandwich.

In the face of her unconditional forgiveness, he had, for the first time in the entire ordeal, wept.

And now it was over. "How long are you two here?" he heard Nannan ask her son.

"I took two weeks. Been building up for a while and we've had a shit few months. Boss thought I could use it; gods know Vin can."

Two weeks of white sand and wine and healing. He'd best put it to good use. He opened the old fashioned screen door to go inside. Inside to help Nannan with the supper dishes, and to crawl in bed next to Rude, and to begin his life again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The end for now, though I do plan an epilogue of sorts. Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Epilogue: A Time of Grace

Executioner Epilogue: A Time of Grace

* * *

><p><em>This ain't no place for the weary kind<br>This ain't no place to lose your mind  
>This ain't no place to fall behind<br>Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try—Ryan Bingham, The Weary Kind_

* * *

><p>"Long way from Costa. Or Mideel." Rude shouted over the blowing ice and snow.<p>

Vincent just nodded, stepping out of the air transport. "It's not so bad, just cold and dark." Cloud looked up at him as if to ask if he'd lost his marbles for real this time but he just shrugged.

He was used to it. It was an extended mission for the Turks and for the first time, the WRO was sending their own representatives. He'd wanted the assignment badly, and hadn't been sure that Reeve would send him, given the executive's concerns over his mental health. And so, he wasn't in the mood to hear grousing from anyone else.

Cloud hadn't had to come. He was there as a family member and, to Vincent's way of thinking, could suck it the hell up.

He hoisted his rucksack and turned to look at a blackened tree, half buried twisted by the wind, by the side of a pond. Rude snorted. "How about that, babe? Waterfront property."

He smiled under the layers of scarves and mufflers and squeezed the platinum band—Rude's grandmother's—heavy and unfamiliar still, on his right ring finger. It too lay buried, a secret for now; it had been their little backup plan in case Reeve hadn't given in. There would be hell to pay, of course, after their hijacking of Reno and Cloud's wedding, and he wondered how it would all work out.

It would. He knew. "Well, which one of our cabins you want to stay in?"He shouted back. They had each been assigned one, one from the Turks and one from the WRO. And typical of government bureaucracy, neither could be canceled.

"The one closest to the pond. I like waterfront views."

* * *

><p>Rude was right. It was a long way from Costa del Sol, to the end of the World.<p>

He dropped down into the cave, a shallow indentation near the North Crater, as soundlessly and gracefully as a cat. Its occupant squeaked in shock. "Vinnie! You scared the shit out of me!"

"So much for the much vaunted observational skills of the ninja," he teased, and unwound his scarf, dropping his pack beside him. "Anything riveting to report to your relief?"

"No. I don't even know why we're here."

"Oh no, neither do I. It's not like ShinRa has ever done anything untoward at the Crater before, that the WRO might want a little advance notice this time."

"And why are you up here?" Yuffie asked in a wheedling tone, the one that Vincent suspected was illegal by several anti-torture treaties planet-wide. "Keeping an eye on the Turks? Or one Turk in particular?"

Vincent just shook his head. That was Yuffie for you, like a freight train. Even though you saw her coming a mile away, there was just no stopping her. He gave her an indulgent kiss on the top of the head, or hat, to be more exact. "One in particular. And it's not such an unpleasant job, either. Better than watching an empty crater." Well, he hoped it was empty, anyway.

She hugged him and managed to get dressed for the outside weather, a complex process, without concussing herself. "Here's your book and papers. Um, see you topside in six?" She handed him the origami book they all shared on their endless, boring shifts inside the cave, and a stack of square papers, and shimmied up the ladder, leaving Vincent with the quiet, and his thoughts. He stripped down to a coat and light leather gloves and opened the book.

Then he made a fish, and a bird. He made a box, which reminded him of gifts, so he pulled out the battery operated salt lamp that Rude had given him. It gave off natural spectrum light which was supposed to be good for depression; too much artificial light was bad, Rude had read, and ever since then he'd bought all kinds of gadgets, especially for the trip north, that gave off natural light. Vincent liked them, but especially this little lamp, that smelled like an oncoming storm and looked like firelight.

He put down the book and settled into the deep winter silence. The last few months had torn a near catastrophic hole in the new, fragile life he had built for himself after Deepground. It had been less than three years since Rude had dragged him, near catatonic, out of a hospital room, broken as a baby bird fallen from its nest. He had never even taken a driver's test; ShinRa had simply handed him a license and Veld had more or less taught him the operation of a car. He had never rented an apartment; ShinRa had just given him a place to live. He had never even bought his own clothing as an adult; it was either a uniform, or a crimson cloak over the black armor chosen by his demons.

The world had been a terrifying place for a new human.

Rude had let him drive on a road trip to Costa and upon his return to Kalm, he had his first real license at the age of sixty one. He proudly took Cloud on a spin around an abandoned parking lot to celebrate. After finding out the staggering amount of paperwork involved in renting an apartment, he had just bought the damned thing so he would never have to do it again. He still couldn't dress himself for shit, and if it involved more than leather, denim, boots, and a shirt, he just asked Tifa to do it for him.

Then it all crashed in on him and he had to start it over again. And people wondered why he had wanted to come up here, rather than be parted from Rude. No, he wasn't weak and clingy, he had just lost enough for one lifetime.

A noise at the cave entrance drew his attention, and he put his hand to Cerberus. But the creak of leather and the smell of cigarettes put him at ease. Somewhere, under countless layers of winter clothing, was Cid Highwind. Maybe. "What are you doing up here so early? You weren't due until afternoon." But he accepted a hug from the shapeless lump of coats and scarves anyway, happy to see his friend.

"Checkin' on you. You seem to need it. What the hells is that?"

"A salt lamp. Rude bought it for me, it's supposed to be good for depression. You delivered it, you should know."

"Hmph. I just deliver boxes, I don't ask what's in 'em. Stayin' home mighta been good too."

"With most of my friends up here? I doubt it."

"Still determined to stay?"

"Cid, it's not horrible up here, it's just winter. Winter is perfectly natural; in fact, it's quite beautiful if you take it on its own terms. I went running yesterday."

"In this? Ya are daft."

"Oh, that's news. And they make special running gear for polar temperatures. That's what was in the rest of the boxes you delivered."

"Who woulda thunk there was such a thing? Not folks with enough sense to stay in outta the cold, that's for sure."

Vincent just smiled. It was an old argument between the friends, and one that they never tired of having. "Do you want to use my cabin? You can confuse the hell out of Yuffie, who seems to think I'm sleeping in it."

"Sounds good, and better than the barracks." Cid's assignment as pilot didn't give him permanent housing at the base. "Besides, wanna give you newlyweds your privacy."

Shit. He had never been able to slip a damned thing past Cid, but how...

His friend was grinning, like he'd won the Midgar lottery. "Lucky guess but I see I hit it in one. I know you two like to vacation in them little huts and all, but two days is a mighty short trip all the way to Mideel, 'specially when you're already in Costa. And I know the monks do little quickie weddings for folks that don't have time to wait on a license and all and in the name of, whatchacallit," the pilot waved his hand, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in the low lamplight, "religious tolerance, the government's gotta recognize it and wait on the license later. Then, I kinda wondered why you already had your shit packed, when you didn't outright know if Reeve was gonna assign ya or not. Seemed a little optimistic, if you ask me. Knowin' you like I do."

Yes, that was the problem, Cid knew his every quirk, a little too well. He could give Reno a run for his money on profiling; it was damned irritating, truth be told. Vincent put his head down his knees. "It may not go over well, I'm afraid. We didn't mean to exclude anyone."

"Was it what you wanted?"

Vincent thought back to the tiny stone church, to the peace and quiet of the place in the early mist of morning.

"Yes."

"They'll adjust then. You been through enough on other peoples' agendas. 'Bout time you had something you could own. Need to start thinkin' about how you're gonna hide that ring you keep fiddlin' with under your glove tho, come summer."

He stopped fidgeting with the ring, caught. "Cid? If I buy you beer, will you be quiet?"

"Guessin' we could arrange something."

"I adore you."

"Yeah, I am one charming bastard. See you when you're done with this shit?"

Vincent returned his grin and Cid ran back up the makeshift ladder like a rabbit, off to deliver gifts and cheer to the rest of the Crater Base camp like some profane and foul mouthed Papa Noel.

* * *

><p>The end of his shift came six hours, twelve origami animals, and countless chapters on his electronic reader, another gift from Rude, later. There wasn't much to do, down in the cave, but drink coffee and read and find any mental outlet one could. The Turks were stationed on the other side of the crater, doing much the same. Occasionally he spoke to Rude via radio, though they tried to keep channels clear for actual business.<p>

Still, it was nice to hear each others' voices. The assignment gave them that much at least. He fiddled a bit more with his ring; Cid was right, it wouldn't be a secret much longer, not with Little Miss Espionage around. He dressed for the outside weather and headed for the common room.

The Crater Base common room served multiple duty as a gaming room, restaurant, bar, and general hangout for the men and women stationed there. He arrived and stripped down to normal clothing to find that Cid had arrived only moments before him for the promised beer. They wouldn't get drunk, of course; thinning the blood in the polar regions was a fatal mistake, but a few drinks wouldn't hurt. "A toasty one for my friend Cid, Jak, if you please." The bartender opened a sliding door and pulled two beers out of the snow where they were kept relatively warm from the below-freezing air. "Is the Turk second shift over yet?"

"Nope. Radioed to say they would be about seven, the relief was late getting out. Reno was most...colorful in his opinion of the schedule change. I've got some stew hot for 'em in the kitchen." Vincent made introductions; Jak had returned for another tour and was once a airplane mechanic before he hurt his back. Soon his theory that Cid was a worse gossip than Reno was proven beyond any doubt, and he leaned his chin in on his fist, relaxing into his second beer and the warm personal company.

Cloud appeared at his elbow, taking him by surprise. "You doing okay?"

"Surprisingly, yes. You?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be harder than it is. I almost went nuts up here the first time, Reno and I fought constantly." He sipped his beer and laughed at the memory. "We finally figured out how to have sex with some of our clothes on."

"That does soothe a lot of friction." He smiled again. Then, "Stop it, Cloud."

"Stop what?"

"That _look_. I really am fine."

"Vin, I'm sorry if I'm skeptical but it was only a month ago you shot your own rapist in the chest at point blank range. That would rattle most people."

Cloud had a point, and was the only person that would get away with making it. Checking to make sure Cid's nosiness was otherwise engaged, he replied. "Do you know what he said when I showed up at his house? 'You're alive.' That struck me as odd, for some reason. If I drugged and raped a restrained mental patient on a weekly basis for months on end, I think, I don't know what I'd say. Really. But I poured myself a glass of his top shelf and asked him why he did it, and he said because right and wrong are politically determined, and he paid people very well to see that what he did was right at the time. And then I shot him. I was so shocked, I think, because even Hojo realized he was evil, he just didn't care, but this man...he treated it like he was just getting a requisition signed.

"I realize I was vastly off my rocker at the time, and may still be, and maybe this trip was ill advised, and maybe it is illusory but I do feel fine."

"You feel better since you remember? We went insane in different ways, I guess." Cloud looked distant, as if remembering his own parting with reality after losing Zack.

"Yes, oddly. Horrified, but better." Before he could go into any more detail, the noise of the Turk patrol distracted them along with Reno's elaborate cursing and something about the location of his frozen balls. Cid walked to the end of the bar to continue his conversation with Jak, but not before giving Vincent a pat on the back and a significant glance, and Rude sat down with his stew. It was a hearty concoction of tomatoes and meat and vegetables. A bowl of seasoned rice and an icy bottle of beer rounded out the meal.

Vincent noted with some amusement that people gave them the same wide berth for privacy they did other couples in the base crew. "So, how was your day?"

"Bit longer than yours, but just as boring. Watched ice melt and listened to Reno bitch. Do you want some stew?"

"I ate earlier, just before you came in. I could use another beer, though." Rude got up to get them both a refill, and Vincent found himself looking forward to the evening, very much.

* * *

><p>They held hands on the way back to the cabin as a matter of practicality more than sentiment—it helped keep balance in the gale force winds of the Northern Continent—and Vincent shook the snow out of his hair in the mudroom, envying not for the first time the simplicity of baldness. All Rude had to do was pull off a hat and hang it up to dry.<p>

Life was so unfair.

Gloves and coveralls were next and before long the two of them wore the thick fleece pajamas that had become a uniform of sorts in the thickly insulated cabins of the base. Rude padded into the kitchen to heat some mulled wine while Vincent dove under the warm covers of the bed. "Damn glad the day is over. Here's your wine." He took a large sip of his own and gave a hedonistic moan.

Almost as he said it, Vincent grabbed the lube out of a small toiletry kit and put it in bed with them, in some hope of bringing it close to body temperature. Or, at least above freezing. Rude saw him and gave a little smirk.

"I missed you today," he said by way of explanation. He turned on is little salt lamp and left it as the only illumination in their insulated cabin. "I hate all the time I wasted."

"Not wasted. You needed to heal."

"I didn't need to be an idiot." Vincent privately thought that Rude was being generous but decided not to argue the point.

"Shhhhh." Rude raised up over him. "None of that. Somebody hurt you. Can't put all that back together all at once."

And Rude held him for a while, there in the lamp's soft glow. It had been a hard, awkward time in Costa, him more afraid of _being_ afraid, than anything; of panicking at the wrong moment and ruining everything after being gone for so long. And afraid of telling Rude the truth of his fear.

But Rude had seen through him and had only touched him, and kissed him, and quieted his attempts to go too fast, too soon and when he had beat his own fists on the bed in frustration, he had only cradled him in comfort and then let him weep out his anger.

And when he was all cried out, only then had he made love to him with a slow sweetness that even now, in the low light, made him so hard he ached. "I want you," Vincent whispered up into the soft light.

"Yeah." Rude stripped off the rest of their clothing. "Warm enough now."

"We have to get out of the bed sometime, you know."

"Details." Rude claimed his mouth, hard, then, leaving no room for memories or fear, warm hand trailing up his leg and hip before fastening on his shaft and rubbing almost too gently to bring satisfaction.

"More," Vincent gasped when he could find the strength to break away. He found purchase to rub himself against Rude's hardness and it brought a groan from the larger man. "Want you inside me." And he did, he wanted that burning ache of entry that made his breath hitch, the way Rude grasped his hips and thrust into him. The way Rude claimed him before...

Before. He wanted it again. For all the rebuilding they had done in Costa, he needed it here, without gentleness, without room for the past. Rude only nodded, and prepared both of them, pushing his fingers inside until Vincent growled in need and arched his back. "Ohhhhhhhh, that's good."

"You always did like that."

Like? He was breaking a sweat, pleasure coming out of him in helpless little moans now. Rude's hands were perfect, warm and just callused enough to make him want more without being uncomfortable. He bit his lip in an attempt to keep from begging; he did have some standards.

Or maybe not. "Rude!"

"Yes."

He entered him in one long, hard stroke that made Vincent's eyes water but all he did was gasp a little. Rude paused, and placed his hand on his side in question but only got a nod in response, and kept rocking into him. The ache faded into mindless pleasure. Rude lifted his thigh and drove into him deeper, and faster. Vincent arched his back, bringing his hardness into contact with Rude's stomach with each thrust; the friction felt heavenly and he groaned in warning.

Rude slipped his hand between them, closing around him and stroking, the ache inside him growing harder and harder until it exploded and he came, hard, crying out against the warm wet pressure of Rude's mouth. A grunt, and a shuddering thrust later, and Rude was trembling above him, holding him close.

"I..."

"I know."

"Yeah."

"You know what's gonna suck?" Rude found the wipes, one more thing they had learned to keep in bed with them, under the electric blanket. Cold wipes after sex were one hell of a mood killer.

"Hmmm?" Vincent drowsed.

"When we get back, and have to hold it down to keep from scaring the neighbors."

"Hadn't thought of that. I say we scream our heads off, let them sell if they don't like it."

Rude grinned and handed him back his pajamas, and they curled into each other for a warm night's sleep.

* * *

><p>He was back in Costa del Sol.<p>

Thirty years before, there had been a carnival on the end of the Point. He couldn't remember the name of it now, but it had dissolved into neglect and No Trespassing signs long since. He hopped the fence with a preternatural grace and walked through the eerie quiet, past shooting galleries and gondola wheels, listening to the wind squeak in the rusted gate of a tilt-a-whirl.

He found himself in a hall of mirrors, but something was wrong. The reflection staring back at him was too thin, too young, the hair chopped in an unflattering bob out of fashion three decades before. He turned to leave, but in the next mirror was Hojo, with a needle. The caress against his neck was cold, that of a corpse.

His own screams of terror woke him.

But the hand at his back now wasn't cold, it was alive and a little rough and another arm went around his waist in comfort. He breathed in the old fashioned scent of bay rum shaving soap and the laundry detergent from the comforter, and the ion smell from the lamp. He opened his eyes and saw the near darkness of the cabin, not the bleached out light of his nightmare, and drew a shaky breath.

"Do you need to get up?" Translation, was he going to be sick? Rude knew the dance well.

"No." No, but a dream of the labs would have produced a slightly different answer. "No but some tea would be nice." Rude got up to brew some, and was back in a few minutes, during which Vincent had time to reassemble his dignity and put on pajamas that weren't soaked through with cold sweat. "Thank you."

"You're getting like Cid with that tea. Can you talk about it? The dream?"

"He cornered me in the old Point Carnival."

"Fucked up."

"Carnivals are creepy anyway, Rude. I'm scared to death of funhouses."

"Seriously? I never knew that about you."

He leaned into Rude's warmth, soaking in it like the sun, and nodded. "And clowns." Rude looked at him skeptically over his own teacup. "No, really. I am completely freaked if I can't see someone's face."

"But my sunglasses never bothered you."

"You are the most transparent person I have ever met. You hid nothing behind glasses." They smiled at each other in the lamplight and finished their tea, and Vincent went back to sleep, all dreams banished to the dark wind outside the door.

* * *

><p>Rude had ordered extra lamps the minuted he found out that Vincent liked them, and they had arrived only the previous evening via express delivery , filling the cabin with an amber light. Vincent sat drinking more tea in his favorite chair. Rude turned on the overhead kitchen florescent just long enough to dress, and then back off again, knowing it annoyed the man at the window and not wanting to leave it on any longer than necessary. "Are you feeling all right?"<p>

"Yes, really, it's just dark, Rude. I've always done fine in the Ancient Forest, and it's dark there too. You were right, it's the lighting here that had me on edge, these little lamps are magic." Sitting in the middle of them, he looked as though he was in the center of a votive, or a precious jewel box. "I'll be going out at sunrise to see Cid off and if the weather cooperates, Cloud and I may go ice skating while it's daylight. It's actually quite nice here." He had the whole day off from patrol, but that meant more time on the computer and catching up on reports while Rude was on guard duty. Eventually he would have to make his way over to the common room, the only place hardwired for computer networking, to report to Reeve and answer other emails. He wasn't looking forward to it, the lighting and noise intrusive on his acute senses, which were even more sensitive after days in the dark of the cave and quiet of the cabin.

Until then, though, he would content himself with drowsing, and tea, and the certain organic pace his days had taken on. Somehow, this frozen wasteland had begun to heal him more than his weeks in Costa. Maybe because, in spite of how much he groused about it, it was good to know how much his friends and his lover cared about him, when all his adult life he had believed he was nothing, a monster.

Maybe, because in this place, there was nothing else to do.

Rude paused behind him on his way out the door. "Why do you stare out that window, babe? It's nothing but wind."

"No, there's a tree, by the pond."

"A dead tree."

He smiled. "Pessimist."

"Vin, it was dead when we got here. It'll be be dead when we leave."

"It's winter. Winter holds life deep within it, Rude. It has to, for things to survive." Vincent knew only too well what he had held, protected through countless winters, in a coffin above the earth, through Hojo's torture, through his own despair. He leaned forward and pressed his fingers to the frigid pane. "Fifty gil says it's alive. It will be spring when we leave, we should know."

It was an old game amongst the Crater Base crews; there was little to do up here but gamble and it hadn't taken them long to join in. "You're on."

Spring. It seemed so far away, up here, but he knew the truth of it, knew it in Rude as well. He knew spring would come and had, in fact, already come for the rest of the planet. Here at the North Crater, however, the planet still waited, holding her life, her secrets, much like Vincent had for so long, deep within an icy core.

But neither could wait forever.

* * *

><p>"You're windburned." It was weeks later, but spring still seemed a stranger to this frozen land. Rude and Reno returned to the common room and stripped off their work gear, down to civilian clothing. Vincent's shift had ended early that morning; it had been a long dark night down in the cave with only his lover's gifts to keep him company. It didn't matter; solitude was an old and comfortable friend by now.<p>

"We had a battle today. Cloud and I against the rookie spouses. We won. Expert marksmanship and all."

"Snowballs, I assume." He brushed a pink streak on his lover's face in emphasis. "One got through."

"I took the rest down. Cloud built the fort."

"You are...never mind. We were bored out of our skulls all day watching the damned Crater and all our families were out playing snow fort. How comforting."

"Cocoa? There's schnapps." Cloud and Reno were already firmly in each others' laps.

"Wonder what it tastes like on you."

"Jak? Go cup?"

Some hours later, both of them sticky and smelling of peppermint, they held each other in the cocoon of their collected blankets and soft amber light. "We have to get up and pack."

"In a minute." Rude didn't seem too intent on moving.

"We might need another helicopter for all the stuff you bought me."

"You liked opening presents."

"I know, but we were up here almost two months. That's a lot of presents, Rude." He yawned and stretched.

"Didn't mind, it made you happy."

Vincent leaned up and licked at a gummy spot of minty goodness on Rude's shoulder and grinned as he heard the man's breath hitch. "Let's pack later."

* * *

><p>It didn't take an entire copter to pack up Vincent's gifts, but it did take a rather large box. The extreme weather running gear alone was massive. He had no idea when he would wear it again, but he would never leave it behind. The ShinRa-issued heavy winter clothing would be returned, and happily so; if he never saw it again it would be a day too soon.<p>

Loving winter had its limits, after all. It would be good to see the sun again, when they touched down in Coste del Sol.

His lamps went in last, and delicately packed. Vincent had spent most of the morning helping Cloud and Reno assemble their own belongings, as they left everything to the last minute. It was no surprise. The freight copter took off and absurdly, Vincent wished the salt lamps had flown with him, and not with the freight. Silly, as Rude would be riding next to him in the passenger transport. He turned the platinum band on his finger again. The lamps were more of a bond than the jewelry, but no one knew that and he didn't know how to tell anyone so he remained silent. It was all right; the secret made him warm inside.

"Fifty gil." Rude's voice was quiet as they walked by the pond.

"What?"

"I owe you fifty gil. Look." He did, as he climbed into the transport behind Rude and his friends.

A pale green bud broke out of the withered husk of the tree; the brave sign of a late and chilly spring.


End file.
